The Ballad of Honor and Tess
by kataract52
Summary: A beautiful story about how two friends become more, lose each other, and try to find a world they can share. Focuses on LeBeau Clan. Updated rating for sexual content.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I do not own. This is a love story between two young girls. If you have a problem with that, turn back now.

It was the summer after the Guilds' massacre, and for the third time in three years, I fell into a depression. Because of my blunders, fifty-four people were dead. Parents, children, spouses and siblings. Gone. These were people I knew and loved.

I was born to an Assassin mother and Thief father. Unlike previous bastards, I was royal-born. My parents' marriage was meant to unite two feuding clans and guilds, but nothing ever works as intended. Still, my pedigree ensured me a life of power and fortune. A birth defect that turned my eyes black and red granted me even more opportunities. Both Guilds believed I was the child of prophecy, and looked to me to unite them where my parents could not. And at thirteen, I assumed the role of matriarch. It was my destiny to free us from the tyrannical grip of Candra the benefactress. My reign would re-establish a dynasty of pride, unity and strength.

Now fourteen, my Guild was decimated, my ancestral home burned, and my allies deceased.

I was present at the massacre, and only survived because my Assassin blood makes me stronger than most. Even so, I spent seven days in a coma, three weeks in intensive care, and twelve weeks in rehabilitation. My body could function almost flawlessly by September. But I was not the same. After I learned the number of the dead, and that my cousin Theo was among them, I inquired no further. I couldn't know who else was gone. I couldn't imagine another family suffering like mine. So I asked no more, and no one told me. In fact, I gave up all my duties to the Guilds. I couldn't face them after so much grief and shame. I couldn't rebuild Rome with twigs.

I didn't even try.

**The Ballad of Honor and Tess**

I turned fourteen on September 19th. Although I was in no mood to celebrate, my parents insisted on a big dinner. Momma made my favorite meal, a type of taco made with pork meat and salsa as spicy as possible. It was only my second dinner since leaving the hospital. Since our house had been destroyed, we all re-located to my father's ancestral home. The Thieves' mansion was given to me the previous summer by my grandfather, Jean-Luc, but I'd never lived here.

I could tell by the air that _no one_ had lived in that house for years. The last child to run through these halls was my father. Now that my family had moved in, ancient ghosts fell from their dusty rafters and irritably looked down their noses with disgust for us.

In addition to my parents, I also lived with my father's wife, Rogue, their fifteen-month-old twins, Ollie and Becca, and Momma's newborn baby girl, Hero. Previously, we'd also boarded with Rogue's foster-mother, Mystique. She weaseled her way into our ranks disguised as a student named Foxx. Once her grandchildren were born and her cover blown, she earned her place among us as a caretaker and disciplinarian. But she was deadly and completely untrustworthy, so the X-Men planted a chip in her brain to monitor and control her. No one was entirely pleased with the situation, but Rogue needed support and guidance. Papa complied to make Rogue happy. I needed Mystique to help me understand my physic powers. Momma spent the most time with our uninvited relative, even going so far as to entrust her with Hero. But she didn't _trust_ Mystique. No. Momma believed you kept your friends close, your enemies closer and your kin closest.

After the massacre, I spent a lot of time in intensive care, and the doctors didn't know whether or not I'd survive. During this period, Papa helped Mystique deactivate the chip. They worked together with Matt Murdock and Elektra to retaliate against my would-be executioners. I knew Papa acted out of love, and there was a time I would've _felt_ loved by his act of revenge. But I'd had enough blood spilled on my account.

Free from her restraints, Mystique vanished. I was sure she'd return someday, on her own terms.

On the night of my birthday, my godparents also surprised me with a visit. Tante Ro, who worked with Papa for Xavier, flew down from New York. Johnny, who I hadn't seen in almost two years, flew in from California. He brought his new girlfriend, Solie Lopez, who I knew and loved. She was a musical entertainer, like Johnny, and the two of them had been splattered across tabloids for months before coming out as a couple. While the ten of us were dining, Momma told me that we were moving back to New York. I would re-enroll at Xavier Academy, go back to being normal, and leave the Guild behind.

Papa and Rogue braced for the outburst that never came.

…

I started the tenth grade late, and didn't think I'd ever catch up. Dr. McCoy agreed to give me some extra credit if I assisted him in his classes. Every Friday night, I could be found in his laboratory helping grade papers and tests.

My "unofficial" precog classes, which had formerly been conducted by Mystique, were now handled by Ms. Frost-Summers. She was a telepath, which was very different from a physic, but she was more than capable. I trusted her - unlike Mystique/Foxx - so we made a study of _my_ dreams, visions and premonitions. Mystique could only teach me what others felt and thought. Ms. Frost-Summers was much more personal and direct.

During one of our Tuesday night sessions, I discovered a secret of hers. She was pregnant. With a girl.

Ms. Frost-Summers had only discovered this fact a few weeks ago, when she heard the child's first thoughts. She'd told Mr. Summers, of course, but they were waiting to make an announcement. Nate didn't even know yet.

Another one of my teachers to offer assistance was Bishop. He was teaching law that year, and offered extra credit if I did a class presentation on organized crime and its influence on the public.

Bad idea.

"In conclusion, organized crime will _always_ exist as long as there's a need for it. It is perpetuated by a lack of other means and opportunities, and finds its haven in desperation. The violence and fear usually associated with organized crime is _cultivated_ by the very people who are sworn to combat it. If you take away nothing else from my presentation, I hope you'll remember that it takes just as much work and intelligence to make a _crooked_ million as it does an _honest_ million. The only thing that separates a street thug from a Wall Street broker is the family they were born into. Thank you."

I waited at the podium politely during the applause. Uri pumped his fist into the air and cried: "Stick it to 'm, 'On!" Praise wasn't required from my classmates, so I knew I'd done well.

Before I could return to my seat, Bishop asked: "Does your presentation include a question and answer section?"

"Sure, why not?"

"Explain how the police force _helps_ organized crime."

"That's not a question, Bishop."

The class snickered, but his mouth never twitched.

"Could you _please_ explain how the police force helps organized crime?"

"I explained in my paper that when the law punishes _all_ crimes, people who are surrounded by crime are reluctant to seek the law's help. They take matters into their own hands because they really have no alternative, and no matter _what_ they do from that point, it's illegal! But since you're still not getting the point, I'll use some personal examples. My first experience with 'the Man' was when I was two. My great-grandmother was dying a slow, painful death, and her husband helped her along to the inevitable. Watching her _brains_ being blown out was _much_ less traumatic for me then the cops showing up like an army and snatching me away from my mother. After that, why would I _ever_ trust the law?"

"Assisted suicide is a tragic situation that I'm not going to discuss right now," he replied. "But for your situation, I would have to say that the police officers acted completely within their jurisdiction. I wouldn't have done anything differently."

"I'm glad life's so black and white for you, but for me, it's not a matter of _jurisdiction_. It's a matter of wrong and right. It was _wrong_ for my Grammy to suffer, and _right_ to help ease her pain. From your point of view, murder's wrong. End of story. But we _helped_ her, so how is that wrong?"

"That's _one_ example," Bishop said, leaning against his desk. "I still don't understand how one example encourages a life of crime."

"Ok, here's another. Everyone knows I don't date because I'm betrothed. My parents are going to pick my husband. But let's say they pick someone I don't _want_ to marry. I call the cops. What happens?"

Unfortunately, when your father works for Xavier, your family doesn't keep many secrets. If someone knew me, then they knew my family arranged marriages. It was common knowledge, just like it was readily known that Bishop was the unlawful father of my baby sister, Hero. Most people were surprisingly tolerant of my outrageous family. The rest could eat dirt.

"If your parents refused to compromise," answered Bishop, "_and_ you were still a minor, you'd be placed into foster care."

"You'd take me away from my family?" I asked.

"If no other alternative could be reached, yes."

"But I didn't _want_ you to take my _parents_ away. I just wanted the _problem_ to go away. You can't fix my problem?"

"The arm of the law only reaches so far."

"Do you know what I'd do in that situation?" I continued, my face getting flushed. "I'd put the right amount of pressure on the right people to get that _boy_ away from my _parents_. It would involve a fair amount of blackmail, bribery and just a _dash_ of terrorism. But in the end, I'd have my cake and eat it, too. Now does it make sense?"

"You think you're acting justly, but what about those you hurt? There must be a sense of order. Someone to judge the righteous from the greedy."

"Why should I do right by the people who piss me off?"

"I think we're beginning to understand each other," he said with a strange smile. "Take your seat, LeBeau. Any other questions?"

Uri raised his hand. "Can you teach me that blackmail, bribery, terrorism formula for the next time Logan wants me to do laps?"

.::.

Slowly but surely, I began to climb out of the hole. If I wasn't at school, working for extra credit or baby-sitting, I could be found in the library with Tess.

Tess was my first and dearest friend. Lately, we'd become more than friends. Or at least, I _thought_ we had. Or maybe we _had_ been once, but were now just friends again. I really wasn't sure anymore, and she wasn't a very expressive person. Despite our long evenings together, we never had a chance to bond. The only time we ever really spoke was when we were testing each other's knowledge.

As usual, she was taking extra classes, and I was stunned by some of the subjects.

"'Covert Hypnosis'? 'The Art of War'? 'The Complete History of Espionage and the Technology Used to Support It'?" I read the titles of the many books piled around her. "Good God, Tess, what're they _teaching_ you?"

"Everything. Isn't it obvious?"

"Why?"

"Never know when you might need it."

"Yeah," I said. "I can think of _endless_ possibilities to utilize mutant civil rights."

"Then why do you study for your classes?"

"To pass, I guess." I shrugged.

She returned to her material, and I glanced around to make sure we were alone. I didn't want to be overheard or interrupted.

Quietly, I said: "Tess, I was thinking… My parents said since I got my grades up, I can go to the Mutants' Convention next weekend. Would you like to go with me?"

"Half the school's going," she said without looking at me. "You can go with Nate."

She said it dismissively, but I understood her point perfectly. Nate Summers was the headmaster's son, and one of the most popular kids at school. He was friendly with everyone, but our little group of misfits was his favorite. He and I had a personal and complicated history, but I trusted him with my life. He was charming and funny and talented with telepathy and telekinesis. So what if I enjoyed his company? That was no reason for Tess to be _jealous_.

"I don't want to go with Nate," I said stupidly. "I want to go with _you_. Just the two of us."

'_Like a date'_, I thought but didn't say.

She looked at me, and quickly looked away. "I don't know, 'On… People might talk."

"What? You're afraid people might find out you're a mutant? The school's kind of a giveaway, babe."

"No, not that…" She said slowly.

She was closing her book, and I knew she was about to leave. I grabbed her hand.

"Come on. When's the last time we had some time alone together? No homework or anything? I really miss you, Tess, and I _know_ you miss me. Remember how great it used to be? Us against the world. Let's just be _us_ again."

A rare, genuine smile spread across her pale-painted face. "All right."

I suppressed a scream and jumped across the table, hugging her neck. She laughed and hugged me back, our heads fitting comfortably against each other's necks. Our bodies fit together perfectly, like two halves of a ying-yang symbol.

She was my other half in every sense.

.::.

Shortly after my father and Rogue got married, Papa built a house in Poughkeepsie, New York. It was easily large enough for my entire family, and was my favorite place in the world. My friends loved it, too, and Uri encouraged everyone to call it 'LeBeau Manor' – although we hated that name. Any time someone stopped by, they got a fresh glass of sweet tea and a homemade dessert. Momma wasn't sparse with her hospitality. Most of my friends came to love my family as their second clan; the rest loved us like their first.

Wednesday nights, I had Papa to myself. Saturday nights, I watched the twins while Rogue got him to herself. Every night, Momma and Rogue found time to gossip and drink. But Sunday was a day for the entire family. My parents would create a feast of Cajun cuisine, and it wasn't long before they were feeding my friends, too. Tess and Renegade never missed a Sunday.

Tess's birth family was in Afghanistan, and her memories of them were just as distant. She didn't even know how many of them were still alive.

Renegade was my newest friend: a stray that Nate recruited from the streets. I didn't know where he originated, but his accent was Caribbean. Actually, I didn't know too much about his past. The first time Momma met him, she told me he was a Thief. Turns out, she was right.

When I was matriarch of the Unified Guilds in New Orleans, I sent an envoy to the New York Thieves Guild in search of resolution. I discovered he had been initiated, but after a pinch went sour, his Guild left him to fry. He still bore the scars, and life on the streets was hard. But he'd rather starve than return to the people who betrayed him. I don't think he had a family before the Guild. He certainly didn't _trust_ anyone. Somehow, Momma had taken a liking to Renegade. She'd gone as far as to invite him to spend the holidays with us, but he laughed it off. There was always some part of him that held back from us.

On the second Sunday of October, I actually had all of my friends over for dinner. While Tess and I set the table, Nate and Renegade got the twins washed and ready to eat. Rogue was puréeing Hero's dinner (since Momma and Papa were cooking for the rest of us), and Ethan was playing peek-a-boo with Hero on the living room floor.

When Tess wasn't watching me, I'd catch a glimpse of Ethan with my baby sister. He'd throw the blanket over her, pull it down, and shake his hair in her face. No matter how many times he repeated the game, Hero was always delighted by the outcome. I would be delighted, too, if he threw a blanket over me and let his hair fall in my eyes. I thought how _lucky_ she was.

Suddenly, he looked at me, as if reading my thoughts, and smiled. I blushed and smiled back.

Ethan was four years older than me, and in the same class as Nate. However, unlike Nate, Ethan didn't surround himself with pretty girls his own age. He had openly flirted with me since the first day we'd met, making his desires obvious. But he'd never _acted_ on those insinuations. We'd both changed since those early, awkward days. We were both adults now, even if the law didn't think _I_ was, and I wanted a woman's life. More than anything, I wanted Ethan to throw caution to the wind and make good on his promises.

"Grab it an' growl!" Momma called, pushing me towards my chair.

Nate and Renegade rushed into the dining room with the twins are their shoulders. I watched Nate lift Becca off his wide, strong shoulders and carefully place her in her booster seat.

"You're good with her," I told him. "Good practice."

"Yeah, for you. Your old man's planning to re-populate the countryside, isn't he?"

We shared a smile.

I knew he was right, even though _he_ didn't know it. Rogue would conceive again in the next day or two. This one would be a boy.

We all took our seats. Papa was at one end with Momma and Rogue to his sides. The little ones were right beside their mothers, except for Becca. She sat beside Nate and kept leaning towards him, trying to grab him and get his attention. He really was great with kids. I sat at the other end, with Tess and Uri at my left and right, respectively. Southern tradition dictates that my mother or Rogue should've had my seat, but I always blessed our meal. Therefore, I was given the position.

"Our Father and Mother, who art in Heaven," I said with my hands folded, "Blessed be thy names. We praise you for your mercy in sparing us from random acts of unspeakable violence, unstoppable monstrous storms, fatal genetic defects, and viral epidemics that target people like us. We beg your mercy for another day. We praise you for the generosity you've shown our family, and ask only for a lifetime of it. Glory to thy names forever. Amen."

.::.

Monday morning, it was back to the grind: homeroom with Ms. Frost-Summers; computer class with Ms. Pryde; law and ethics with Bishop; English with Ms. Frost-Summers; study hall; geometry with Dr. McCoy; lunch; art history with Mr. Wagner; and finally, biology with Dr. McCoy.

I drug my feet through the Main Hall until I found my friends at our table. It was still early morning, and I was exhausted. Thankfully, none of us were "morning people". We all respected each other's need for silence before nine a.m. Tess drank her cappuccino and muttered: "Damn Bishop had me up all night working on that paper. How'd you guys do?"

"Oh, honey," said Uri, "That's not due until _next_ Monday."

"No, it's today. Says so on the syllabus."

His green face drained.

"_Please_ tell me you're joking!" I gasped.

Uri and I immediately pulled out our supplies and scribbled the best report we could muster. Of course, Tess helped us along.

"You're a life-saver," Uri gushed. "I spent all weekend on Frosty's review questions."

For once, Tess looked concerned. She dug through her back pack and pulled out her English book. "Please don't tell me that's due today…"

"That's what she said," he said with wicked glee.

While the three of us were exchanging answers, Renegade finally joined us. He looked as tired as I felt, and I could tell by his deflated book-bag that he _couldn't_ have finished all his assignments. Before I could break the bad news to him, he yawned and asked to see our answers to McCoy's study guide. Of course, we didn't have _that_ completed, either.

It was just another, typical day at Xavier Academy. Every morning and night there was homework to be done. My parents made sure I was faithful to my medical routine, and the twins started walking. Occasionally, an older student publicly humiliated me with childish names like "_Les-Beau_" or "_Coon-Ass_", and more than once I had my lunch desecrated or my boots stolen during Mutations Control. But I had been a crime lord, for gods' sake. High school was _nothing_.

My life was quiet. Normal. Exactly what my parents and I wanted.

…

One Monday morning, there was considerable excitement outside the cafeteria. Tess and I pushed our way through the surge of bodies to get a glimpse. Logan had posted the sign-up sheet for combative training. That class wasn't mandatory, but nearly every sophomore added their name. Those who volunteered would start training next semester. During finals, they would be tested on our skill. Those who survived the cuts would be assigned to a squad at the start of junior year. As the crowd whittled away, I could see my friends Uri and Renegade had already signed up. Tess pulled out a pen with green ink and added her name.

She looked at me expectantly. "Do you need my pen?"

"No…" I read over the names, already knowing who would pass and where they'd be assigned.

"Who _are_ you?" She shook her head at me.

I passed the list every day for six weeks. But November was the cut-off date. There was always a great deal of excitement concerning cuts and assignments. The glory, the pain, the stress… Did I _want_ it? On the last day, I stood before that sign-up sheet for a solid hour. I had the pen in my hand, which was fixed firmly at my side. I felt like a man on the precipice of something great, too frightened to take the next step.

Nate approached me from behind. "If you're trying to do that telekinetically, you're going to be waiting a while."

I was slightly startled and laughed at myself. "Haven't made my mind up yet," I told him.

"Look," Nate said, "Logan's coming for that sheet. He'll be here in a few minutes. If you change your mind, you can always back out. But if you don't sign up, you won't even have the chance."

"_Yeah_ _right_! Logan's _totally_ gonna let me quit. Okay."

"So what's stopping you? Afraid of getting hurt?"

I shot him a dirty look. "Have you _seen_ my scars? I didn't get 'm by being _afraid_."

He laughed. "So what is it?"

"Everyone _expects_ me to do it," I said. "Little Gambita: future X-Woman-in-training."

"That doesn't sound like the Honor LeBeau I know. She doesn't care what other people think. Anyway, you already _know_ how to fight. This is just fighting with your mutations."

"But it's exhausting."

"I enjoy it, so I don't mind."

"And I'm exhausted enough! Piano lessons… Health checks… I've got all these _classes_ and all this extra credit crap-"

"Once you get caught up, it won't be so much."

"And I've got all this _family_ crap, too."

"Like what?" He moved in front of me and leaned against the wall with the posting.

"I have to watch Hero on the nights Momma has class. And I've got the twins every Saturday night, too. This time next year, we'll have another baby-"

"You will?"

I gasped and covered my mouth. Looking around, I was relieved to see we were alone.

"Please don't tell anyone," I whispered. "She doesn't know."

He laughed at me. "Oh, the secrets you must have. Isn't good to keep them all locked up, Honorita."

I lightly blushed and an uncomfortable silence settled between us. He'd heard my problems, but hadn't helped me work them out. I still felt like both choices were wrong.

"We shouldn't be alone," I reminded him. "What would Melody think?"

Now it was his turn to blush. As he walked off, he said: "Why does it bother you so much that we're dating? She's just a girl, 'On."

Just like his father, he _had_ to have the last word.

Alone, I added my name to the list.

.::.

The Friday night before Mutant Con, I could've exploded with excitement. Even Tess was beside herself. She and Uri stayed at my house that night, and we spent the entire time discussing which booths we should make an effort to visit.

"We can't leave before we see the exhibit for Stark Enterprises," said Tess while speed-reading an article about said company. "They've got a device that allows you to create hypothetical mutations and observe how the situation unfolds."

"Tess? Wants to play a _video game_?" Uri gasped.

"Don't be naïve, Uriah. It isn't a _game_."

"I heard it's gonna be huge," I said. "I really wanna hear Dr. MacTaggert's presentation. She's probably the most knowledgeable person in the _world_ on mutations."

"I read-"

Papa interrupted us with a knock on my opened bedroom door.

"_Bon appetite_, Athos, Porthos and Aramis."

It isn't always easy to prepare a good-old Cajun meal that won't offend a Muslim or Jew, but my friends never complained. When Momma made pork, Tess would fill up on salad and sides. When we had shellfish, Uri claimed to be allergic. I don't think my parents had a wide concept of what food meant to others; they only knew what it meant to _them_.

After I blessed our meal, the three of us resumed our conversation.

Mutie-Con was an entirely new concept, but it had done a good job of reaching its potential market. In fact, so many people from Xavier Academy were attending that Ms. Frost had set up buses to run at half-hour intervals. I was secretly hoping Nate would offer to give me a lift, but he invited Melody Jacobs instead. His parents had given him an embarrassingly expensive sports car for his eighteenth birthday. I suppose I couldn't blame him for wanting to show it off. Since I didn't do _buses_, my friends and I decided to bike the trip. It was only ten miles from my house; the distance was completely feasible.

At the other end of the table, my parents and Rogue were pretending to ignore us. They were discussing Hero's new teeth and Becca's runny nose.

_BRRRRRRRIIIIING! BRRRRRRRIIIIIING!_

We all exchanged worried looks. Phone calls were not acceptable during dinner. Everyone who called us knew that, which meant this was probably an emergency. Papa and Rogue would have to leave in a hurry, and I'd have to miss Mutie-Con to help Momma with the little ones.

Momma quickly wiped her mouth and excused herself.

No one spoke so we could hear the bad news.

"Hell - Who is dis?... What happened, _cher_?... You okay? _Oui_, _oui_, don't worry about dat... 'Course I come get you. Where are you?... I'm leavin' now. Don't tell dem _anyt'ing_."

She rushed back through the room and grabbed her coat.

"What was dat?" asked Papa.

"Renegade got himself in trouble," she said. "Down at de county prison. I'm gonna go get 'm."

"You sure you wanna do dat?"

She shot him a nasty look and asked me to make sure Hero got a bath and put to bed.

"'Course, Momma," I sighed.

I was so relieved that I didn't have to give up Mutie-Con, I would have agreed to anything!

…

Tess, Uri and I woke up early, grabbed our water bottles and helmets and hit the road. The first time we tried to leave, Rogue stopped us at the door and made us finish a three-course breakfast. It was a brisk bike-ride, not a triathlon! Impatient and energetic, we left without a care. Momma didn't get up in time to see me off, which was unlike her, but I was too excited to notice. She must've had a late night.

The autumn air was clean and invigorating. We had already decided to stick to the back roads, and we had our pick of both lanes most of the way. I felt so free, so _liberated_! Just me and my friends and the promise of more like us! As we got closer to the convention center, we were pushed out of the road by buses from Xavier Academy, Massachusetts Academy, and other schools from the state. Lots of people came by car or taxi, and the media was in prime shape.

I knew mutants were the minority, and plenty of people wanted to hurt us. But that day at Mutie-Con, there were _so_ many of us! We were so open and honest and no one bothered us. There were no strikes, no secret codes, no hurtful names.

There was a five dollar per person admission fee, and once inside, we had access to all the latest stuff: new classifications of mutations, second-degree mutations, video games, laws and trials concerning mutants, medications, movies, books… We saw it _all_. Some of the hottest topics were developments on the Legacy Virus cure, and a new machine which could supposedly reverse mutant abilities. I didn't particularly like the idea of anyone altering their genes for the sake of popularity, but some people were a danger to themselves and others. In those cases, I agreed with using the machine. Dr. MacTaggert's presentation was very popular, too. Despite the many minds working on a cure for the Legacy Virus, the world was no closer to a cure. In fact, there was a new, more aggressive strand called the Neo-Harshen Virus. Apparently, Neo-Harshen was techno-organic in nature and slowly turned its victims into metallic minerals. The process was gruesome, which of course drew a crowd. I dared myself to face pictures of young men and women struggling for life. Sometimes, they gave up peacefully. Other times, they turned into statues with that spark of defiance still burning.

What sort of world would my brothers and sisters _live_ in?

I called home when we got to Mutie-Con (as promised), and I called again as we were leaving. By that time, the sun was low and the clouds thick. We could make it home before dark, but we'd have to leave quickly.

"Maybe we should take the highway back," Uri suggested. "It's shorter, and we don't want to be lost on those back roads at night."

Tess and I considered it.

"Let's do that," said Tess.

On our way out, a bus from Xavier Academy hailed us.

"Vhy don't you put those bikes up and ride back?" Mr. Wagner asked, leaning out the driver's window.

"Nah, it's okay," I said. "I live just a few miles down the road."

"Very vell. Do be safe."

The roads leading back home were considerably more crowded. The cold air was beginning to burn my lungs, and my body was beginning to hurt. Half way home, the clouds opened up and rained painful pellets.

"This _sucks!_" I shouted.

"_Raindrops keep fallin' on my head_," sang Uri. "_But that doesn't mean my eyes will soon be turnin' red."_

I joined in: "_Cryin's not for me."_

Both of us sang: "_And I'm not gonna stop the rain by complainin'…"_

While singing, we went over a slight hill. After a sudden descent, we noticed a red light with zooming, opposing traffic at the bottom of the hill. Uri and Tess slammed on the brakes, and I heard their bikes stop. I slammed my peddles backwards, too, but my bike skidded right into traffic. It happened in a second. I really didn't even see anything; I just reacted. My prized bicycle flew in the road and was struck by a car. The car screeched to a halt, and my bike flew past me into a ditch.

"Pochica!" Tess screamed.

She threw her bike to the ground and knelt beside me.

"Are you okay, baby girl?"

"Honor?" Uri joined our party. "Honey, talk to us!"

My eyes were fixed on the damaged pile of aluminum pikes and spokes that had tried to kill me. That could've been _me_ lying in that ditch. I was supposed to be _physic_, goddamnit! Why hadn't I seen that car coming? Why hadn't I known my tires were worn?

I heard myself emit a single sob.

"She's in shock," I heard Ethan say. "_Breathe_, honey."

_He_ was the driver of that car!

I sobbed again, and inhaled once in a broken gasp.

"Better let me take her back."

"But," Tess said. "B-but-!"

"But what?"

My poor Tess was _jealous_! She was more concerned about me being alone with Ethan than she was with my physical well-being. I tried to stand to prove I was okay. My legs trembled so violently that I fell into his arms.

"But… What about my bike?" I muttered.

"We'll have to come back for it," he said. "It's not going anywhere today. I could give you guys a lift, too, but there's no room for those in my car."

Uri and Tess exchanged looks.

"No," said Uri. "We'll be all right."

Next thing I remember, we were driving down the highway. He turned the radio down, and the only noise was the sound of the rain and the windshield wipers.

I realized I was soaking wet and freezing. I turned the air conditioner off. His car wasn't nearly as nice as Nate's. Ethan drove a ten-year-old Ford Thunderbird with bad tires and a trunk that didn't shut properly. He paid for it himself by the money he'd saved from his Social Security checks. Ethan had never spoken to me about his birth parents, but I knew they had died together. He lived with relatives for many years, receiving money to compensate his parents' loss. Eventually, he was adopted by an Asian couple, Li and Jade Fong. I didn't know exactly how he met them.

"How you feelin'?" He asked me.

I didn't _feel_ anything, so I looked myself over.

"I'm okay."

"You're going to have to give me directions to your house. If you can't, I'll take you back to the school. We can call your folks from there."

"No, I know the way. Stay in this lane. I'll tell you when to get off."

We were quiet for a while. Finally, I remembered my manners.

"Thanks, Ethan. For the ride."

"Hey, no problem, babe."

I blushed so fiercely that I could feel my face and neck burning. I looked out my window so he might not notice.

"I hope your car's not too badly damaged. My pop can pay to have it fixed."

"Don't worry about it. It's not like it hurt the car's _worth_," he laughed and put a hand over mine.

I gasped and pulled my hand away.

"Sorry."

"Look here, Ethan!" I threw my fists up. "I appreciate the help, but if this is one of those things where you think you're going to _get_ something for it-!"

"It's not."

"First you call me 'babe', and now this! I am _not_ your _babe_! And you may _not_ touch me!"

"Hey man! I surrender! I said I was sorry. Won't happen again."

"If it does, I'll break your damn wrist!"

"Sorry!"

We became quiet again, and I felt a little guilty for my outburst. I was angry that he'd try to pull something. And truthfully, I was a little sorry I'd shot him down.

"Turn right there, by that Papa Smurf's sign," I told him.

Other than directions, I said nothing to him. He delivered me right to the front door, but once home, I lingered in his car. I didn't want this to taint our friendship.

"Ethan, I'm sorry I yelled at you, but you can't touch me, okay?"

"No, it's cool. I wasn't thinking. I forgot that younger girls are really uncomfortable about stuff like that. It didn't mean anything. It doesn't change who you are just because I grabbed your hand."

"I know that," I said defensively.

"'On-" He leaned towards me and then pulled away. "Honor, I know someone's hurt you. But I would never do that to you. I'm sorry for whatever I've done to make you think I would. From now on, I'm just your friend, okay? I'll watch what I say around you."

My heart was breaking.

He pointed to my house, and I saw Momma standing on the front porch with Hero on her hip.

I left and he drove away, not bothering to come inside and socialize. In my house, that was a cardinal sin, but Momma seemed to forgive him. She took me inside and helped me dry and change. I told her about my bad tires, the rain, and Ethan driving me home. She seemed distracted.

"Your Papa got a call," she told me. "He and Rogue are goin' to be gone for a while, so I'll need your help wit' de kids. De twins are nappin' right now. But luckily, we ain't alone dis time."

"Did Mystique come back?"

She laughed at me.

"No, _chere_, Renegade's gonna be stayin' wit' us for de time bein'."

She took me upstairs, and I could see that he was occupying the guest room. He gave me a reluctant smile and explained that part of his release agreement required an adult to accept responsibility for him. Apparently, my mother was the only adult willing to do so.

.::.

Sunday night, Renegade had babysitting duty. Momma and I were in the kitchen, elbow-deep in potato peels with hot grease popping at us. Our only guest that night was Tess, who was sulking in my room with a made-up tummy ache. Resentment was heavy in the air. The little ones continually escaped Renegade's watch and ran under our feet. There was no one to set the table. After Momma and I cooked dinner, set the table, and fed the kids, we _still_ had to wash the dishes and get the kids into a bath and then bed.

I went to bed exhausted, and still had to face a pissed-off Tess. My room was dark, and she was lying with her back to me – she'd been here all through dinner. I turned on a lamp and groaned.

"Any chance I could get you to rub my shoulders?" I asked.

"Call Ethan. I'm sure he'd be glad to."

"Now that you mention it, I probably should've just stayed the night with him. Since Papa and Rogue are away, there's no one to take me to school."

She shot up and threw her pillow at me.

"What is your _deal_?" I said.

"You think you're _funny_?"

"You act like I had a choice!" I snapped. "Like I _intentionally_ lost control of my bike and nearly died! In case you forgot, it was _your_ idea to take the highway! I had no way of knowing Ethan would be there! I suppose next time I'll stay on and get _splattered_. Then if he takes me, you know it'll be to the hospital and not to _basier_ point!"

"It was the chance you've both been waiting for. Did he kiss you?"

"What?"

"Okay, did he _try_ to kiss you?"

"He's been a good friend to me-"

"Oh, spare me!"

I never thought I would say these words, but for once, I knew how my father felt. Without trust, there can be no love. The longer she doubted me, the more I felt like I didn't know her. Life without Tess was like life without air. There wasn't anything I wouldn't do to get her back.

"You're right, baby," I said and sat down beside her. "He tried to hold my hand, but I told him he couldn't. Not that you'll _believe_ me. You haven't believed a word I've said all day."

"Really?" She sat up and leaned toward me. "You said that?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"This hand's only for you, Sagey."

We giggled and she hugged me. I loved the way she held me: with her arms around my neck so I could smell her skin. My sense of smell isn't as keen as Logan's, but there are some people that I seem to be more aware of than others. My parents, for example, smell like home. My little brother and sisters smell like innocence. Tess smelled like heaven. I knew her scent would linger on my pillow cases all night. I hugged her in return, and then slid my hands to her hips. She seemed so thin. I ran my hands up her back to see if I could feel her ribs. I couldn't, but I could feel that she wasn't wearing a bra. With a devilish grin, I slipped my hands up her shirt.

She gasped and jerked away.

"Jesus, 'On! Your hands are _freezing_!"

"Sorry," I said.

I rubbed my hands together and huffed on them, trying to regain some warmth. She helped. Once the chill seemed to subside, I placed my hands on her face. With invisible ease, my hands slid over her jaw, down her neck, and under her collar. She sighed and closed her eyes. Inwardly, I felt the same way. Her skin was warm and soft as a kitten's, but I felt it tighten at my touch. I relished the way I could make her smile or coo whenever I pleased. It had been months since we'd been like this, but she'd never let me go so far before. Just how far could I get?

I put my lips against the nape of her neck and ran my fingers through her thick hair. She shivered and gasped in delight. Her hands grabbed my arms so strongly that her fingers left bruises. I didn't mind. In fact, it was kind of intoxicating. Gently, I pressed against her until she lay on my bed. Her inky hair fanned out over my quilt, her eyes dark and pleading. I noticed her navy sweater exposed just a sliver of her stomach. The skin was flawless and as pure as snow. My fingers lifted the shirt with all the respect one would give a wedding veil.

My bedroom door opened – slowly and noisily. Tess and I sat up in a panic, and she quickly pulled her sweater down. If it had been an adult, we would've been busted. Even if we'd moved quickly enough, guilt was plainly written on our faces.

Instead, a red and wet faced Ollie came shuffling into my room.

"Sissy," he cried, "Can't find … Momma…"

Poor brother must've looked in every room… Except my mother's room, of course. If she'd found him out of bed after she'd already put him down, it would've been a swift pop on the rear. I knew I should've done the same – popped him and put him back in his own bed. But he was so pitiful: wearing his little footie pajamas, holding his stuffed alligator, and rubbing his tears away with his fist. His little button nose was even running. He was the most pitiful sight in the world!

"She's _working_, brother. Remember?"

His bottom lip trembled and his voice cracked as he moaned: "I want my Momma!"

I picked him up and he melted against me. He cried a little longer while I rubbed soothing circles across his tiny back. I already knew where this was going… He'd ask to sleep with me, and I'd be unable to refuse him. Then he'd cheer right up, and we'd whisper until Becca realized he was missing. She'd come scampering into my room, too, and I'd have them both sandwiched between my arms.

Normally, I wouldn't mind, but this wasn't how I'd hoped to spend the night.

…

Monday morning at my house was complete chaos. Normally, I just rode to school with Papa and Rogue, but since they were away (Israel, I think), Momma would have to take me. Unfortunately, that left no one at home to watch the kids. But she couldn't fit _three_ car-seats, _three_ teenagers _and_ herself into any of our cars. At the very last minute, we realized we'd have to find someone to either watch the kids or drive the rest of us to school. Xavier Academy was more than an hour's drive away: no one lived near us.

"I'll call Lucas," Momma finally decided. "Ya'll are gonna have t' stay at de school till your Papa gets back, but dat'll take care of today's problem."

_Bishop_? My skin crawled at the thought.

"Can't leave you here with the little ones," I argued. "Not for two weeks or more! And who's gonna watch them while you're at school? Look, I can just take the city bus back and forth."

"No way I'm gonna let you ride all dat way by yourself."

"She won't be alone," Renegade said. "I'll watch out for her."

_Ridiculous notion_, I thought. _Like I need _**him**_ to protect me!_

Momma pursed her lips and conceded: "Two's better den one, I s'pose."

We were almost half an hour late for school. Renegade, Tess and I ran up the endless brick lane, heavy back-packs slamming into our legs with every step. By the time we reached the entrance staircase, my legs were numb and my torso damp. I panted almost in sync with my footfalls.

Someone grabbed my shirt collar and yanked me back.

"Ya ain't gonna get the drop on _anyone_ makin' all that noise, pepper."

"_Logan_!"

"Classes start at _eight_."

"You know Papa got called away-"

"Come this way. You, too, Dee and Dumb."

My friends and I exchanged pissed-off looks, but we followed him outside. It looked like he was going to make us run laps, so I quickly explained about the car-seat situation and the bus running late. I didn't expect any leniency, and he didn't give us any. Out on the field, I was surprised to see Nate, Ethan and Uri sitting on the bleachers and looking bored. They were already dressed out in tactical uniforms. The three of them were slumped over and silent like they'd been waiting for a long time. At the sight of Logan, they jumped to their feet.

"Now that you're all here," Logan said, "I can let the cat out of the bag. Frosty's letting me form a new team this year. I'll be the adviser, and you lot will be the team. Questions?"

We couldn't have been more shocked if he'd told us he was leaving the X-Men to write romance novels full-time. We just sort of stared at each other in disbelief. He started to leave when I found my voice.

"Logan! We didn't even have try-outs!"

"You know I don't go by those scores," he said dismissively. "I just put on a show to give four eyes a thrill."

I chocked on a laugh.

"What are we gonna be called?" asked Renegade.

"Hadn't thought that far ahead. I'll leave that up to you."

"Who's our captain?" Ethan fired off.

Logan gave him a dirty look and answered: "Summers."

"_Heh_! Big surprise there!"

"He's got seniority."

"Seniority? He's been on this team as long as I have! _About a minute and a half_!"

"Fong," Logan paused to light up a cigar. Smoke billowed around his weathered face and filled my nostrils. "I've got more 'n one way of dealin' with problems if you _enjoy_ runnin'."

Ethan's eyes lit up at the insult, but he kept his mouth shut.

"When do we start?" Nate asked.

"Today. That's six o'clock for you rookies. Frosty's gonna have your uniforms in your lockers, so don't worry about rippin' your panty hose. That's all I've got for you."

As he started to leave, my stomach sank. My friends were still in shock, but I had the presence of mind to go after him.

"Logan, wait. Can I have a word?"

He didn't stop, but turned his head to acknowledge he'd heard me. I quickened my pace to match his.

"Six o'clock tonight… That's not gonna work for me. I've got classes with Ms. Frost-"

"I know. Re-schedule."

"Well…" I bit my lip and watched my feet moving at break-neck speeds. "I wouldn't have been able to go to that tonight, anyway. See… Since Pop and Rogue are gone, Momma's got the little ones all by herself. She's got school tonight, and I said I'd watch them."

He stopped abruptly, and I braced for an outburst. Instead, he moved the cigar to the side of his mouth and looked me up and down. It was a silly gesture since I had three inches on him – rather like getting sized up by a leprechaun.

"It ain't my business to tell a man how to raise his kids," said Logan. "But _you_ ain't the one who made those babies. They ain't _your_ responsibility. Seems to me, you do enough for 'm. Your old man wants to have his cake an' eat it, too, then let _him_ sort it out."

He walked away.

I stood still as a statue with my head lowered. Logan made it sound so simple, but it wouldn't be Papa who made the sacrifice – it would be Momma. And _she_ wasn't any more responsible for the twins' existence than _I_ was. Anyway, what choice did Papa have? Short of leaving the X-Men, he had no options. He couldn't just drop the kids off with a sitter like a _normal_ parent. There were too many people who wanted to hurt him. There were too many trips when he didn't know if he'd ever come home again. He didn't want a _stranger_ making the hard decisions about his children if anything happened to him. I'd never told Papa this, but I resented the fact that his job was so dangerous. It didn't _have_ to be. He could take a non-combatant job for Xavier, or leave the school entirely. Now that I was older, I understood why he did this work. He _believed_ in it. He was _good_ at it – no one could do what he did. And secretly, he loved the thrill of it. But wasn't I important, too? How much of my life had he missed or ruined because of his work?

I always thought I would make different choices. I thought that if I were my father, I would much rather chose the boring, safe life. But here I was: abandoning my mother for Xavier. Momma wasn't angry when I told her. She was thrilled by the whole thing – I was chosen early for a brand new team under the most respected instructor at Xavier's. She told me nothing was more important than my education, and I shouldn't sacrifice this opportunity. Finally, we agreed that I would stay at the school until Wednesday night, when she'd pick me up.

"I'm so proud a' my _tite_ _fille_," she gushed, "Just _wait_ till I tell Jean-Luc!"

.::.

For a solid week, I was the most popular kid at school. Everyone wanted to be my friend, even the bullies. I knew being on a combat team would create some excitement, but I was completely unprepared for this level of _positive_ attention.

We decided to call ourselves "Hunter". Tess suggested it as an acronym for our names: Honor, Uri, Nate, Tess, Ethan and Renegade. I called her a genius and kissed her.

Squad Hunter showed up half an hour early to a crowded field. As a squad, we were given our own locker room with individual showers, a first aid station, and twelve lockers. Also, the school provided a sauna for all the teams to share. I found my locker in the center. It had a small, golden label with black print: H. J. LeBeau. Inside, I found a form-fitting black uniform with matching boots and gloves. The only thing to distinguish our uniforms was three bright blue strips around our biceps. Naturally, we all took to personalizing the uniforms, which wasn't unusual. Ethan extended his collar to cover the back of his skull and jaw. Tess cut of an entire sleeve and the collar, leaving her neck, shoulder, and large parts of her chest and back exposed. Uri let out the seams as much as he could so that his uniform wasn't as form-fitting, but his round belly and muffin-top were still visible. He laughed with us and suggested we call him "jelly roll". Nate did the exact opposite, using yellow strips to draw attention to the muscles in his legs, torso and arms. Poor Renegade didn't even fill out his uniform. He left the gloves off since they wouldn't stay on anyway and used a belt to pull the uniform closer. I cut the fingers off my gloves for easier access to my powers, and put a little skirt around my big ass.

After our uniforms had been customized, I braided Tess's hair so it would be out of her way, and pulled mine into a pony tail. The guys applied double de-odorant and rushed to do warm-ups. Alone, Tess and I looked at each other in the mirror.

"You're beautiful," said Tess. "I don't think you've ever looked lovelier."

I smiled and said nothing, but I was content to have these precious moments alone with her.

The six of us stretched and flexed at Nate's instruction. We even had time to run a warm-up lap before Logan arrived at six o'clock. We were ready to jump into the action, but Logan called us to the side for a conference first.

"I know you lot got yer own ideas how this is gonna go down," he grumbled, "Let me dash all those hopes right here and now. This ain't a game. We ain't here to have fun. Yer here to _learn_ and I'm here to _teach_ you how to fight and survive when the occasion calls for it."

"Can we change our name to Team Feel-Good?" said Uri.

"I expect yer to be on time, _every_ time," Logan continued. "When I give you an order, I expect it carried out immediately and with effort. Lastly, any problems you got with each other or me stays _off_ the field. We've lost too many good people because of _trust_."

"This group doesn't have any issues," I said. "Isn't that why you picked us?"

"I picked you because I've seen the potential of each and every one of you. Yer good. I can make you better. Might go home every day hurtin' and whinnin', but I _will_ make you great. I ain't never gonna bury a Hunter."

I swelled with pride at his sort-of compliment.

Logan was a harsh coach – much harder than _any_ of the other instructors. He constantly pushed, pushed, _pushed_ our limits. I soon realized he was right when he said this wasn't a game. He wasn't interested in helping us beat the other squads or even the other members of Hunter. We were competing against ourselves. After an hour of unbearable intensity, we were released. We limped pitifully to the showers, and then to the first-aid station.

In search of stronger pain relief, I went to Dr. McCoy.

"Aw!" The good doctor cried and clapped his hands. "Miss LeBeau, how wonderful to see you. Unfortunately, today isn't Friday. It's only Monday, kitten."

"I know," I smiled. "Logan put us through the ringer. Could I get something a step above Tylenol?"

"I think I have something to help you feel better," he replied.

He brought up a computer screen, and after a few minutes of work, I saw my father's face on the monitor. I couldn't make out too much of the background: looked like he was inside a tent.

"Papa!"

"Hey, _catin_. Sorry I didn't get t' say _adieu_ before I had t' leave. It all happened so fast."

The picture was clear and smooth, and the sound perfectly timed. I didn't know how I was communicating with him. This technology was far more advanced than mere satellites.

"You're never gonna believe this," I said, "but Logan started his own squad and guess who's on it? Me! Ms. Frost-Summers designed the uniforms. I can't wait for you to see them. Oh, and Nate's the captain. And I beat _everybody_ at sprints and marksmanship!"

"Dat's my girl!"

"You already knew, didn't you? About the team."

"_Oui_. I'm so proud of you, _catin_."

Rogue came onto the screen. "Hiya, sugah! How are the twins fairin'?"

"We're managing."

"Congrats, darlin', on the team an' all. We're real proud of ya. Got news of our own… Ain't been to a doctor yet, but I just missed my second monthly. Looks like we got another bun in the oven."

"Oh! You guys!" I beamed.

Of course, I already knew, but I was very happy that she'd finally realized. Also, I was happy to be the first one they told. Last time they conceived, I never got told at all. I'd been kidnapped, and then I went mental, and then I was committed. Rogue's pregnancy seemed to get lost in the mix.

"How much longer are you gonna be?" I asked.

They looked at each other, uncertain.

"At least _deux_ weeks," Papa answered.

It was a standard answer and I tried not to pout.

"Well, be careful," I said. "I love you guys."

I placed my hand in the corner of the screen, as if I could reach them. Papa's eyes glassed over. He kissed his fingers and put them over my hand's image.

"We love you, too, sugah," Rogue smiled sweetly. Hopefully this pregnancy would be easier for her than the last one had been. She'd gotten her powers under control, and hadn't had an accident in over a year. She was so good now that she could even absorb someone's power through a _mental_ connection.

"Take care a' your Momma," said Papa.

"And tell the twins we love'm, too," Rogue added.

I smiled for them one last time before the screen went blank. Suddenly, they seemed so infinitely distant. They almost felt dead.

"How was that possible?" I asked Dr. McCoy.

"That, my dear, is the latest in communication technology. Using various government satellites and some Shi'ar technological improvements, I was able to establish visual and audio contact with someone on the other side of the planet. The most remarkable aspect of the equation is that your father didn't even _have_ a computer!"

"Then how could I see him?"

"How much do you remember about cyberpathy?"

Dr. McCoy usually wanted to _give_ information. It wasn't like him to quiz me unexpectedly: to wait and hear what _I_ knew about the matter. Naturally, I wanted to impress him.

"Cyberpathy…" I closed my eyes to concentrate. "That's when a person can communicate with a computer through their thoughts. They can sometimes manipulate the data, but they can't force the hardware to behave contrary to its programming."

"Well done!" He cheered. "Gambit's away team is employing the use of a cyberpath. She was able to take the scrambled data that our message was transmitted as, decode the information, and re-translate it into a language their device could understand. They probably used a television screen, which of course means the equipment re-translated the translation into its standard audio/optic format. As far as I know, cyberpaths don't _usually_ have the capacity to reach information in _orbit_. Hypothetically, she could manipulate alien technology. If she could locate another species' broadcast, we could finally _test_ that theory."

I'm sure I didn't comprehend most of the process, but I was very impressed with what I did understand.

"Dr. McCoy… That's amazing!"

"Oh, just something I concocted to pass the time," he said with a broad smile. "You see, kitten, Shi'ar technology is far more advanced than our own. Even their most basic designs possess an artificial intelligence, which is how their equipment adapts so easily to foreign models. I suspect that Shi'ar tools would be _eager_ – if that is the appropriate term – to communicate with a cyberpath. Imagine the possibilities!"

"I'm sorry, Doc," I said, backing slowly toward the door. "Don't know what I did to piss ya'll off. First Logan tries to kill my body, and now you're trying to make my head explode!"

…

A full moon overlooked the lake behind Xavier Academy. The water had taken a slight chill, and the forest buzzed with activity as nighttime creatures made ready for the transition between summer and winter. Across the yard, hundreds of children and dozens of adults ventured into the vulnerable state of sleep. Only the moon saw two young women steal a boat and ferry across the lake. They halted on the eastern side of Lake Westchester, shed their clothes and went for a swim.

"FUCK!" I screamed. "IT'S **FREEZING**!"

Tess laughed at me, herself shivering like a rattlesnake's tail.

"M-move ar-round, Cajun. You'll w-warm up."

We swam away from the little boat, and eventually the cold subsided. I don't think I "warmed up" as much as I just went numb. She led me to a low-lying cliff. I thought this would be the most romantic place in the world to die, but she had other ideas. We took a deep breath and dove under the water. I saw only black, and prayed she wouldn't loosen her grip on my hand. A short, uncertain moment later, we broke the surface again. She'd found this cave, and now we had it all to ourselves!

I untied the rosary around my waist, brought it up and charged it to light the area. Soft blue light revealed a modest bank, steep walls and a ceiling littered with stalactites. The air inside was warm - much warmer than the water or air outside the cave. Since I didn't smell or hear typical cave dwelling creatures, I assumed the place flooded at high tide. Tess approached the bank and climbed up. She was wearing white, matching underwear that I could see right through. I climbed out and felt the prayer beads getting warm. I could postpone the detonation, but not forever. I could also cancel it, but that could leave us in darkness.

"I could set it down," I said, looking around, "But I don't want it to ignite…"

"Then use something disposable," she said boldly. She put both hands behind her back and removed her bra. She held it out for me as if it were a dirty napkin.

I took the garment, charged it, and hung it on the wall – all the while trying _not_ to look at her bare breasts. They were slightly smaller than mine, like white cupcakes with cherries on top. I noticed with just a twinge of envy that her thighs were also slimmer than mine.

_Great_, I thought, _That makes _me_ the fat one_.

She sat down and hugged her legs so that her knees covered her nakedness.

"Isn't this place great?" asked Tess. "We can come here and no one will bother us."

I approached her and sat down behind her. She turned her head to see me, and in the dim light, she looked just like an antique painting of an unknown beauty.

"I love you, Tess."

"I love you, too, 'On."

"I know we're young, but that just means we've got the rest of our lives to spend together. I.. I think we're soul-mates. I think I've loved you in every past life I've ever lived."

"I feel the same way," she said with rawness in her voice. Her hand laced with mine and she moved closer to kiss me.

Her bra finally disintegrated, casting our cave into pitch blackness. I removed my pink bra, charged it, and tossed it to the side. I tried to resume kissing her, but she resisted. Her dark eyes were very obviously staring at my breasts, and I felt my skin burn under their gaze.

"You're so beautiful," she said. "So fucking beautiful…"

Before I could reply, she grabbed my head and pulled me into a kiss. She tasted like my Tess, looked like her and smelled like her… But I didn't know how my Tess _loved_. I suspected I would before we left the cave. She straddled my waist and deepened the kiss. My hands responded of their own accord: moving down her back, grabbing her ass, messaging her breasts and rubbing her nipples. She gasped and shivered and spread her legs for me.

"'On," she panted, "Before we do this… I love you…"

"I know," I said, "I love you, too."

"I know I can't take away your past, but I don't want you to be afraid of love. I want to give you something to cherish."

I was shaking all over. I was nervous and frightened, yes - but also eager to venture into new territory. Would I be any good? Or would we fall apart, go back to bed as virgins, and never speak of this again? God, I hoped not.

"Lay down, Pochica," she whispered.

Still shivering, I obeyed. As she pulled down my black cotton panties, the water attempted to suction them in place, and the garment rolled into a mess. I was shaking uncontrollably, violently now, and my joints locked up.

She held me in her arms and whispered: "We don't have to…"

"I want to," I dared to say, my teeth chattering.

Her hands worked out the stiffness that had collected along my shoulders, arms and legs. My bra disintegrated, and once again, we were in darkness. Alone with the void, I suddenly realized that I was bracing for pain. Without even realizing it, my mind slipped into the same helpless state I felt during the rape.

I didn't immediately charge another article of clothing, but forced my body to adjust. I realized that she was much lighter than Nate… slimmer, kinder, and gentler. She wasn't the giant rock that would crush and smolder me. She was more like a butterfly softly kissing every flower in the field. My body stopped trembling and accepted the pleasure. Everywhere she touched felt incredible, and when her hand dipped below my pelvis, I melted. Thankfully we were isolated. Against my will and better judgment, my voice echoed and rang off the walls.

I had no _idea_ sex could feel this good!

Her mouth latched onto my nipples while her hand was between my legs. I wanted to feel more, I wanted it to stop, I wanted to make her feel this way, I wanted… I didn't _know_ what I wanted. My body started to tremble again and I felt a little embarrassed. I didn't want her to think I was still afraid. My muscles wouldn't stop shaking, but I could still use them to thrust against her hand and pull her closer. Her mouth devoured mine, and all of the sudden, I hit my climax.

"Baby, I… I think I'm gonna… Ah. AH! _TESSSSS_!"

There are no words to describe how wonderful my first orgasm was. I had loved Tess with all my heart and soul, and now I loved her with my body. She held me while I tensed, trembled and finally relaxed. I groped around in the dark until I found my balled-up panties. The cave filled with light again, revealing a devilish smile on her lips.

"I've never made it with a girl before," I confessed. "Not even sure I know how to."

"Me neither. But I'm willing to look foolish if you are."

My hands slid down her smooth back and over her bottom. I pulled her panties off and felt the flesh beneath them. She let me touch her bony hips, cold thighs and the warm, moist crevice between them. I slipped one fingertip inside her and watched her face. She inhaled and exhaled and closed her eyes. Then she pressed herself onto my digit. I put two fingers inside her and moved them in and out. She was slick and tight, and the longer I stimulated her, the tighter she became. Her juices soaked my fingers and pooled in my hand. She hovered over me, bucking against my hand and squeezing my hips between her thighs. Maybe I should have given her an orgasm to return the favor, but I had an impulse and followed it. I rolled her onto her back, pulled her panties over her knees and opened her legs. She never resisted. With one leg over my shoulder and the other around my waist, her pussy came into contact with mine. She was swollen and dripping wet and very, very hot.

"Honor," she groaned and wiggled against me.

I struggled to find the right angle to please us both, and for a few, infuriating moments, I thought I'd never manage. Our clits finally came together and we thrust softly against each other. We exchanged fluids – sweat, saliva and cum. The cave smelled like our love. Our union.

"I'm so close," she told me in the darkness. "I wanna come."

I quickened the pace, even though my legs burned in protest. I wouldn't feel complete unless she came, too.

"Yesss…" Tess's mouth froze open in a silent scream as she arched and trembled in my arms.

Making love with Tess was the greatest act of my entire life. She was singular, but her body was so wonderfully different from a man's. There was no force or intrusion; no mess _dumped_ inside and left for my disposal; no massive body to conquer and humiliate mine. Tess and I were equals: we came together and fit together as lovers should. But we were more than our bodies. Our souls had always been joined, and now our bodies were joined as well. With this final barrier crossed, I finally felt a great awakening flow through me. This Great Knowing, which had always been dwelling silently inside me, roared with life.

.::.

"Wise fools would be wise to review questions one, three and five. For those of you paying attention, that's the _third_ _time_ I've mentioned those _specific_ questions. And for those of you with your syllabus handy, you might notice we have a test next week. Now, turn to chapter four-"

The sophomore class groaned and re-opened our books. It was the last half of our last class of the day, and we were exhausted. Dr. McCoy didn't seem to understand that not everyone possessed his thirst for knowledge.

"Better yet," he said jovially, clasping his enormous blue hands together. "Let's forgo that until tomorrow. You may spend the remaining time on my homework."

He took his seat and we breathed a sigh of relief.

There was a knock at the door and Mr. Summers entered the room.

"Hank, I need to see you for a moment. And Miss LeBeau, your mother's here to take you home. No point in making her wait."

"Awesome!" I said, gathering my books.

On the other side of the room, Renegade gathered his things, too. Dr. McCoy stepped into the hallway with Mr. Summers, and re-entered just as Renegade and I were leaving. I sensed a sorrow in him, but looked no further. His emotions were private.

Momma was in the Headmaster's office, speaking with Bishop. My fury rose when I saw him holding Hero, but faded when Momma turned to me. She had tears in her eyes.

_Papa_.

Time stood still. Deep inside, my stomach sank and my blood turned to ice. I heard my heart pounding in my ears; I felt the air rushing through my head. Around me, Bishop carried the little ones outside, and Renegade led me into Mr. Summers' office.

Momma, Renegade and I were alone in this air-tight room.

"Sit, _chere_," said Momma.

"Papa?" I croaked.

"Your father and Rogue are fine," she said, taking my hand. I should've felt comforted, but I just knew the bottom was about to drop. And _kind_ Mr. Summers hadn't even had the balls to warn me. "But dere was an accident… Mr. Wagner and Rogue were followin' a lead. It was a trap, and dey were alone… Mr. Wagner gave his life tryin' t' protect her."

No one ever tells you when your life's about to change. After the disaster has passed, your mind sort of goes blank. Then you discover that you've _always_ known when this day would come… You just _pretended_ not to know.

"Is Rogue okay?" I asked. Heavy, hot tears trickled off my nose.

"She's fine, _chere_. De _bébé's_ fine, too. Dey comin' home t'night. Rogue's gonna need your help. De next few days an' weeks'll be hard on her, and you know how bad stress is on her condition."

I nodded and wiped my face.

Rogue and Mr. Wagner were foster-siblings, although they didn't know this until adulthood. I don't know how close they were, but Mr. Wagner was a kind and generous man. He was truly a rare breed, and he would be greatly missed by everyone who knew him.

…

For two years, my father returned from every away mission unscathed. Any harm he'd encountered was cured with a hug from his kids. This time was different. He and Rogue arrived shortly after eleven p.m., and the twins and I ran outside to greet them. They soberly held us and walked very slowly into the house. This was not a victory march: it was a broken stride.

"Don' you worry 'bout a t'ing," Momma told Rogue. "Just tell me what you need, an' I'll see dat it's done."

Momma put on a pot of tea.

"That's very kind of you, Belle, but Ah can manage." Rogue sat down at the kitchen table, holding little Ollie tightly in her arms. "First things first, reckon Ah should call the funeral home."

"Cyke should have 'm on speed dial," said Papa darkly.

I didn't want to go to bed that night, especially after I discovered the twins would sleep with their parents. Wednesday night was supposed to be _my_ day with Papa. Under the circumstances, I knew our date would be cancelled, but I was still heart-broken.

.::.

The atmosphere at Xavier Academy was bitter. I'd never seen so many people be so still. People looked at me sideways and the staff wore black. During homeroom, the school had a moment of silence, and Ms. Frost-Summers gave a brief eulogy to the sophomores.

"As many of you know, this is the second instructor we've lost since I've come to Xavier. It's never easy to bury a comrade, but Nightcrawler was especially valuable. He was a great leader _and_ a great follower. No one will ever be able to replace him… On the team or in the world."

I loved and respected Ms. Frost-Summers, but she didn't love Mr. Wagner the way we students did. She just didn't understand him.

_His legacy won't be the X-Men,_ I thought. _It'll be __**us**__._

At lunch, I met my friends at our normal place. Nate and Ethan saved a place for me between the two of them, and after I took my seat, Ethan wrapped an arm around me. For once, no one objected. I relaxed in his embrace, and inhaled his scent.

"How ya doin'?" he asked.

"Better now," I smiled.

Nate hugged me: his body was hard and bulky, and I found it difficult to hold him.

Across the table, Uri and Renegade smiled bravely. Uri extended a green, clawed hand, and gently squeezed mine. My eyes met Tess's, but she did nothing. Her presence was enough.

"You guys will be at the funeral, right?" I asked them.

"Of course," they answered in unison. Nate added: "Just let us know what you need."

Slowly, our hands moved around the table, working as one. For as long as I can recall, we'd always exchanged lunch items. Nate took the meats, Tess took the veggies, Uri took the starches, Renegade took the fruits, and I took desserts… Some things _never_ change. After the bell rang, a few hundred students stood and meandered back into the classrooms. Tess and I strolled down the hall arm in arm.

"You'll be at the funeral, too?" I asked her.

"I said I would, and I will be."

"Would you sit with me?"

"What a strange question, Pochica. Where else would I be?"

I smiled to myself. I should've stopped talking and accepted her answer, but my big mouth opened again. "The family sits separate from the other mourners. Rogue will have Papa with her. But Momma won't be sitting with us – said she didn't think it was right. I just don't wanna be alone."

"If your mother doesn't think _she_ should be there, then I certainly shouldn't."

"You won't be there for Mr. Wagner. You'll be there for _me_."

"That's what your family's for."

I could hardly believe her coldness. After everything we'd been through together, would she _really_ leave me to face this alone?

The class immediately following lunch was art history: previously held by Mr. Wagner. Today, Tante Ro was substituting. This was the first I'd seen of her since the away mission that killed Mr. Wagner. She had been in Israel with him, and the toll on her was visible. Our faces lit up at the sight of each other. I felt like I was eleven years old again, and ran to hug her with enthusiasm. Normally, we kept a professional appearance at school, but these circumstances were far from normal.

"I'm glad you got back okay," I told her.

"I am very glad to be with you, too," she smiled warmly.

My godmother was one of the bravest people I'd ever known. Her only sign of weakness was the sorrow in her eyes. I noticed new lines on her face: lines that spoke of regret and loss. But she was no less beautiful to me.

"Take your seat," she said. "We can talk after class."

I was soul-weary, but obeyed. How could my instructors expect me to concentrate? How could _any_ of us move as if unwounded? The school stopped for sixty seconds after Mr. Wagner's death. Was that all the time we were given to mourn? Tante Ro gave us Mr. Wagner's quiz as scheduled. I was sure I bombed it, and told myself I could do better next time.

"When you're finished, you are dismissed," she told us.

I lingered behind, and after everyone else was gone, Tante Ro closed the door.

"It has been too long since we've spoken," she told me. She sat in a student's desk near me and took my hands. "How are you?"

"You've got no worries with me," I smiled bravely for her.

She smiled back. "I'm going to be staying with your family for a time. I told myself that Rogue would need my support, but now I think I will need hers. There was a time, Honor, when the X-Men were family. I don't know when that changed… Cyclops is different without Professor Xavier. And Jean. Believe it or not, there was a time when I sought out the X-Men in times of sorrow. Now I find myself searching for something else… When I see your face, I know how your father must feel. I understand why he moved out of the school, and why he returns every day. I find myself wanting those same reasons to fight. _Justice_ is an empty reward for a lonely life."

"Are you saying… You want to _leave_ the X-Men?" I could hardly breathe.

"Honor, I need to tell you something. You will _not_ be pleased to hear it."

"Yes?"

"Rogue was in charge of the away team. It was her decision to investigate the cave, and it was her decision to lead Nightcrawler to his doom. No one is blaming her, but responsibility must be placed. Cyclops has suspended her position indefinitely."

"He _fired_ her?"

Never had I wanted to hurt someone so badly. Every fiber of my being fought the urge to storm the headmaster's office and punch Mr. Summers' face. Who did that _prick_ think he was? The X-Men belonged to _my_ family as much as they belonged to _his_! Tante Ro was godmother to all of my father's children, and Logan was godfather to the twins. Bishop was Hero's biological father, and Mr. Wagner was like a brother to Rogue. My father and step-mother were senior team members who had risked their lives _countless_ times for Xavier's dream! Did Mr. Summers have any idea how much he was fracturing the team? Or did he think we were more loyal to _him_ than we were to each other?

…

People poured into our house like ants to a picnic. Mr. Wagner's foster brother, Stephan, and sister, Amanda, flew in from Romania. The Excalibur team from Europe also accepted our invitation to stay in our home. Logan and Tante Ro both decided to stay until after the funeral to watch the twins, and of course Tess and Uri were there, too. Surprisingly, Jean-Luc and his wife Marguerite showed up just in time for the wake. Jean-Luc made an uncharacteristic display of affection by embracing Rogue and telling her: "I know what it is t' bury a part of yourself." For the first time since the accident, I saw Rogue weep.

I kept an eye out for Mystique (or anyone I didn't know), but she never made an appearance. Sadly, I knew that if Rogue had died instead of Mr. Wagner, Mystique would be here sobbing on the coffin.

We held the wake at our house. I knew the decision was a slap in the face to Mr. Summers. Everyone expected the wake and funeral to be at the school, and that's where he was expected to be buried. Instead, we held the wake at our house; the funeral, at Mr. Wagner's church in the city; and his ashes would be scattered in Romania. Rogue said that's what he would've wanted, and I agreed with her. Momma fussed endlessly over the food preparation and my dress and Hero's hair. Maybe I should've been more helpful to her, but I found myself haunting the empty corners of my house.

Shortly before the wake, I watched Nate's sports car pull up. Our front yard looked like a used cars dealership, so he had to walk quite a distance. He'd brought Ethan with him. I was immediately glad to see them, but doubly glad Nate hadn't come with Melody. Come to think of it… They hadn't been together in a while. Maybe they'd broken up?

I ran outside in my ugly mourning dress, and jumped into their arms: Ethan first, and then Nate.

"Thanks for coming," I told them. "So many people here I don't know or don't want to see."

They laughed at me, and I lead them inside, holding onto their arms.

The wake was peaceful. It was strange to be eating and talking in a room with a dead body, but I never looked at Mr. Wagner in his coffin. I saw Momma place something in the box with him, but I didn't want to remember him as a dead man. I wanted to keep him alive in my memories.

Since the funeral was the following day, many out-of-towners spent the night with us. I shared my room with Tess, Mr. Wagner's foster-sister Amanda, Tante Ro and Meggan Braddock from the Excalibur team. All the rooms were equally packed, and some people even slept in the living room. The house went dark, but the noise never completely vanished. I lay awake until the wee hours, listening to Tess breathe and Meggan mutter softly and Amanda get up to pee. All of these people loved Mr. Wagner. He had touched their lives – changed them forever. For such a quiet man, he made such an impact.

I snuck outside to smoke a cigarette, and found Nate alone on the back porch.

"Can't sleep?" I asked.

"Too much broadcasting," he replied. As a telepath, the sorrow must've been especially unbearable for him.

I sat down beside him and offered him a smoke.

"You really should give that up," he told me. "It's not flattering for a young woman."

"_Ha!_ You sound like Momma!"

The corner of his mouth flickered. "You heard about Rogue? On the team, I mean."

"Yeah. I heard…"

"I'm sorry. I can understand _some_ discipline, but _that_ was too much. He overreacted."

"He's gone power-hungry," I vented. "He's becoming a tyrant now. If Jean were still alive-" I stopped myself. For one, I had no right to blame Jean for being dead when I was the one who killed her. Secondly, this was Nate's father I was talking about. I didn't want to cross the line with him.

"No, you're right," Nate shook his head. "He's a different person with Emma. I think Ray saw that. I think that's why she left. And just between me and you, 'On, I'm leaving, too."

My stomach dropped. "Where will you go?"

"Back to Alaska with my mom. She needs me. Oh, don't worry. I'm going to graduate first."

Eight months.

"It was a mistake to leave in the first place," he continued. "But I thought he would need me after Jean's death. _Ha! _I thought maybe my mom was wrong about him… That maybe he and I could finally have some time to connect. But there's never gonna be time for me – just like he never had time for my mom."

"I know exactly how you feel," I said quietly. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, it's not-"

The back door opened, and I shuttered boldly. Quickly, I dropped and stepped on my cigarette and then jumped away from Nate. If Momma found us like this, she'd shout until the whole house heard and Nate went running for his car.

But it wasn't Momma.

Ms. Pryde was arm-in-arm with a member of Excalibur, Pete Wisdom. They were dressed to leave, and looked equally as startled to see us.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"Huh…"

"Er…"

They looked at each other nervously. I knew _exactly_ where they were going: a hotel room.

"The pub!" Pete said quickly.

"Yes!" Ms. Pryde added. "Going for a drink because… we can't sleep. What are _you_ doing out here?"

"Same as you," I said. "I'm sure."

The four of us exchanged sly smiles and Pete said: "We _never_ saw each other."

I watched them leave in his car. "Nate… Can I tell you a secret? I haven't told anyone else about this."

"Sure. What's up?"

"Tess and I had sex."

He suppressed a laugh. "Wow. Our little Pochica's a man."

I punched his arm and we shared a little laugh. I felt greatly relieved to be discussing it.

"Can I tell you something?" He leaned towards me and whispered, "You can't say a word."

I nodded.

"Melody had an abortion."

I gasped. I had not expected _that_. I didn't even know she was _pregnant_!

"Nate! Why didn't you _say_ anything? We're your friends!"

"I was scared, 'On." He rubbed his hands together nervously. "I've never been so scared in my life! Her parents threatened to extort my dad… He was so angry with me. He still can't look at me. I convinced her to get rid of it, but now… She's sick, Honor. In the head. I'm worried about her. I thought I would feel relieved, but I just feel… _Empty_."

"Oh, Nate!" I had no words for him. His problems were so much bigger than mine that I didn't even know where to start. I put my arms around his massive shoulders and pulled him into an embrace. He didn't resist as he always had. Instead, he melted against me. For once, he let me in.

.::.

The Saint Patrick's Cathedral in New York City was the grandest and most elaborate church I'd ever seen. The choir sang a heavenly rendition of _Ave Maria_, and the sunlight shown through stained-glass stories. Every pew, every seat, and every corner was filled with people in black. I sat up front with Papa, Rogue, and Mr. Wagner's European brother and sister. Since we'd been sitting through a full Catholic mass, the twins were with Momma near the back. The X-Men filled the next three pews behind us.

Professor Xavier, who I hadn't seen since the twins were born, made his way through the sea of bodies. He looked older than I remembered. Despite all the misery he'd caused my family, I felt a pain for him that was probably pity.

"Rogue, Gambit," he greeted them both with an embrace. "My deepest sympathies for your loss. I am sorry I could not come earlier. I was detained temporarily in Genosha, but I would not have missed this for the world."

"T'anks for comin', Professor," Rogue said quietly.

I saw the Frost-Summers couple arrive and quietly find their seats. They were dressed in solid black with dark glasses, and Ms. Frost-Summers wore a cute little black hat with a black veil over her silicone face. Her belly had taken on a roundness that sent the rumors spinning. So far, she'd denied the speculations; instead insisting that she felt more comfortable in her body as a married woman. Nate wasn't with them, and he wasn't with my friends, either. Renegade was helping Momma with the little ones, and Tess, Uri and Ethan were right behind the Excalibur team.

Trying to be discrete, my head rotated back and forth over the crowd.

Then I saw Nate, whispering into Momma's ear and holding her elbow. She nodded without looking at him and he walked away. If I thought _that_ was strange, I was further confused by what happened next. He sat beside me – in the family pew – and took my hand. His lips found my ear and he whispered: "I won't let you face this great unknowing alone."

He smiled kindly at me as tears poured down my face.

The casket was closed for the final time, and the organ rang out with sorrow. I wept through the first three songs of holy worship. I didn't dare look at Papa or Rogue, but my father's hand clasped mine and trembled. After the third song, Nate helped me dry my face and tucked a handkerchief in my hand. I ascended the stairs to the pulpit and spoke without lifting my eyes to the crowd. I felt a holy presence that I could never full articulate. Standing before the mass, I felt the presence of God. His all-knowing eyes peered into my soul, and I could only confess what He already knew.

"When Rogue first asked me to deliver Mr. Wagner's eulogy," I began, "I thought she'd gone nuts. I'm sure some of you agree. There are-" My voice quivered and I willed it to be strong. "There are people who knew him better, who loved him more than I did. But the more I thought it over, the more I thought she was right.

"To his co-workers, Mr. Wagner was a reliable man who could fill whatever role he needed to fill. To his family, he was the quiet optimist who required little and asked for less. To his flock, he was an unwavering light in the dark. But to his students, Mr. Wagner was so much more. He filled the role no one else _could_. He was the small and steady voice that steered us to righteousness. He saw our light when we couldn't see it in ourselves, and he loved our dark."

My hands gripped the pulpit so hard that they shook. More tears escaped my blurry eyes, and once again I had to collect myself. All around me, people were sniffing and collecting the tears. I could hear the twins in the distance, asking Momma why I was crying.

_He deserves a good eulogy_, I told myself. _Not a blubbering fool venting her frustrations!_

My voice came back stronger, much stronger than I felt. "So, taking a page from Dr. McCoy, I'd like to leave you with the poetic words of Robert Green Ingersoll. _'_Again we, in the mystery of Life, are brought face to face with the mystery of Death. A great man lies dead before us, and we have met to pay a tribute to his greatness and his worth. I know he needs no words of mine. His fame is secure. He laid the foundations of it deep in the human heart and brain. He was, above all I have known, the poet of humanity, of sympathy. He was so great that he rose above the greatest that he met **without** arrogance, and so great that he stooped to the lowest without conscious condescension. He never claimed to be lower or greater than any of the sons of men. He said, speaking of an outcast: "Not till the sun excludes you do I exclude you". Today we give back to Mother Nature, to her clasp and kiss, one of the bravest, **sweetest** souls that ever lived in human clay. And I today thank him, not only for you but for myself, - for all the brave words he has uttered. I thank him for all the great and splendid words he has said in favor of liberty… and I thank him for the brave words that he has said of death. He has lived… He has died… And death is less terrible than it was before. And so I lay this little wreath upon this great man's tomb. I loved him living, and I love him still.'"

Although my voice trembled throughout, the words were clear and I did not sob as I was inclined. I felt proud for the eulogy and its execution. I found the words to express what everyone else felt, and they wept with relief. I left the pulpit feeling drained. My knees knocked together like a newborn fawn's. My shaking hands gripped the pulpit for support, and then the altar. Nate came and held my hand for the remaining three steps to my seat.

Rogue sobbed into my father's collar, but he managed to slip a hand into mine. Nate gripped my other hand while the trembling subsided. His hand stayed with mine the entire service.

…

Most of the visitors were gone by dinner time. Rogue locked herself in her room, leaving Momma and I to pick up the make-shift beds. Renegade took the little ones into the backyard, and they ran around until it started to rain. He brought them inside, and instinctively knew to give them a bath and put them down for a nap. Jean-Luc and Marguerite made themselves at home in the kitchen. We didn't have much food left, but they managed chicken and rice with green beans. Nate drove Ethan and Uri back to school, although they were all very reluctant to leave me. Amanda and Stephan would be staying for a few more days until Mr. Wagner's body was cremated. They planned to spread his ashes on a lake that the three of them lived near as children. Mr. Wagner once told them it was the most peaceful place in the world, and that seemed like the perfect resting place.

"You did good t'day, _petite_," Momma told me while we folded blankets on the living room floor and tossed them into packing boxes. After her compliment, she walked towards the kitchen.

"Thanks, Momma. It was the least I could do."

When she didn't reply, I looked up and found her gone. Tess had taken her place, and stood in the doorway watching me.

"I'm sorry, baby girl," she said quietly. "I should've been there. I didn't know you were taking it so hard."

"Yeah, well… _I_ did," I said bitterly. I folded the blankets with more speed and threw them with more strength than I had been. "Now everyone's gonna think I'm with _Nate_."

"Since when do you care what other people think?"

"Since that's _all_ you care about, apparently!"

"I said I was sorry… Please forgive me, 'On. I can't stand you being mad at me."

I knew _exactly_ how she felt. We hugged, and I was suddenly very glad to be alive.

.::.

In the dead of night, three bodies moved across the lawn of the LeBeau household. Security cameras watched their every move, but a review would leave their identities protected. Rather than risk going through the front door, they climbed the tower and opened the round, blue and green window. Security lasers aimed and readied, but then powered down.

I heard footsteps in my room and jerked from slumber. Tess was half-naked and curled up around me, but I managed to get my phaser gun out the night-stand before they reached the bed. I nearly fired on Nate, Ethan and Uri.

"Jesus Christ!" I panted, bile burning in my stomach.

Tess pulled the blanket over her bare shoulders.

"Some physic!" Ethan sneered.

"I could've _killed_ you!" I whispered angrily. "What the hell are you guys thinking?"

They exchanged smiles.

"We're thinking you forgot how to properly bury a man," said Uri.

"Yeah," Nate said, "Someone told me you Cajuns have a party for everything. Even funerals."

"It's not like that! It's a celebration of the dead man's _life_, not his _death_."

"So get your party boots on," Ethan smiled. "We've got some celebrating to do."

"Get the hell out!" Tess snapped. For a moment, we thought she was going to try and ruin our fun. "I'm not getting dressed in front of you!"

Nate smiled. "I'll get Renegade."

He used his telepathy to call my foster-brother, and a few short minutes later, we were piled in Ethan's car headed for the city. We rolled the windows down and ran ninety miles per hour down the country roads. The wind cut through my hair and deafened everything except the blaring radio.

I leaned into Ethan's ear and screamed: "Where are we going?"

"Surprise!" He shouted back.

"Gotta warn you! My old man's probably doing the same thing! Don't wanna run into him!"

"Trust me! You run into his where we're going – he's got more 'splaining to do than you!"

He smiled at my confusion. From the back seat, Renegade tapped my shoulder and handed me a little pink pill. He handed one to Ethan and Nate, and I noticed Uri pulling out a flask to help shallow the drug.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Just _take_ it!"

I looked at the two guys sitting by me. "I'm putting a lot of trust in ya'll!"

Renegade shook his head so hard that his dread locks threatened to slap my girlfriend, who was sandwiched in the back seat between him and Uri. "Izz too goddamn hot in 'ere!" He slithered out the window and climbed on the roof while we were still doing 90 mph. A moment later, his body slid over the windshield and sat on the hood.

"Can't see the road!" Ethan screamed.

We laughed hysterically, and after Ethan turned on the windshield wipers, I nearly pissed my pants.

Renegade boldly threw his fists in the air and declared: "I'm king a' de road!"

Half an hour later, we all arrived safely at Pantheon. It was a gay club with all the vices of the ancients… Or so I'd _heard_.

"You _know_ we have to be twenty-one to get in," I said.

"No worries," Nate shrugged. "Got all my bases loaded." He handed all of us drivers licenses, and for a moment I was excited. With a fake I.D., I could get away with so much! But it wasn't a fake; it was really Ms. Frost-Summers' driver's license.

"Okay," I said, "I know we're both _blond_, but no one's going to buy this!"

"They will with a little telepathic persuasion." Nate winked at me.

"Nathan Christopher Charles Summers!" I gasped. "That is a _blatant_ abuse of your god given abilities!"

And I _loved_ it!

The bouncer looked down his nose at all of us but let us in. Once inside, my senses were immediately assaulted by strobe lights. The hallway was lined with gender-benders, shape-shifters and androgynies. I was afraid maybe we'd made a mistake in coming here, but after we descended the stair-case, the club opened up into an enormous dancer floor with booths against the wall and a bar with low-lights. The bass vibrated in my chest and rang in my ears. The sensation was bothersome at first, but later numbed my body and inhibitions. Bodies thrived together like sinners in hell's pit. In one of the booths, two men were having sex on the table.

"They couldn't make it to the restroom?" Uri asked, aghast.

"_Exhibitionists_, honey," I said. "They get off on people watching them."

"My god!"

"You guys find a table," said Nate. "I'm gonna get us some shots."

"I wanna dance!" I said, pulling Tess's hand.

"I don't dance!" she said.

"I do!" Ethan quickly led me into the sea of flesh.

We lost ourselves – arching our backs and throwing our heads around. I felt the mystery pill kick in like little spiders crawling around under my skin. I wrapped my arms around his neck and shouted: "Whatever happens tonight… Don't let me fuck you!"

"No promises," he grinned.

"I'm with Tess now!"

"Right now," he purred, "You're with _me_."

I have no idea how long we danced, but when we re-joined our party, they were drunk. We all took to doing shots, and in time, Tess agreed to dance with Ethan and me. I was the luckiest girl in the world! My head was spinning, my limbs tingled and my loins burned. Every part of me was grateful for every breath. At midnight, the sprinklers cut on, soaking everyone on the dance floor. I screamed in delight and jumped up on the table, dancing like a woman possessed. Oh, if my mother could've seen me then… We were young, vibrant, and we had the rest of our lives to conquer the world!

…

_KER-POW!_

My feet sprinted across the field and over the grass as I leapt over the first obstacle – a wall five feet high and three feet thick. Too late I remembered to _look_ before you leap, but I managed to kick myself away from the wall and avoid the ditch at the bottom. I landed rolling head over feet – a less graceful entrance than Nate, but at least I didn't break my ankle this time!

The next obstruction was an insanely complicated series of mazes with dead-ends and booby-traps. The only available choice was to go _through_ it or back the way I had come. Since I couldn't retreat, I considered my best recourse. Clever Tess took one look at the maze and ran through without incident. I could only _wish_ I were that intelligent. No, _my_ skill was speed and balance, and I would use that to my advantage. Charging into the man-sized rat maze, I zigged and zagged through the halls. The bush walls immediately began moving to close me in. Exits were closed off, hallways vanished, and I was forced to leap through new holes with no idea where I was going. In the distance, I could hear a strange humming sound… Almost like a helicopter was chasing me. I turned around just in time to catch a metallic ball about the size of a dinner platter. It singed my hands and tried to knock me down, so I charged it and watched it explode too close to my face. Luckily, I could still see, and returned to the course.

A few breaths later, that humming noise was pack in pairs. This time, I caught one and charged it with less power while it jerked towards my face like an angry dog. One of its buddies hit my shoulder, and although I was knocked off my feet, I held onto my attacker. Glowing blue, I threw it at a wall, gambling that it would go _through_ the wall and not just bounce back at me. It worked. Better still, my imprint confused the other heat-seeking missiles into following their compatriot. I quickly leapt, slid and jumped through the holes until I was free of the maze. Bruised, battered, and with greenery in my hair, I was victorious nonetheless.

In the stands, I could hear people clapping and laughing.

I doubled over panting, and waited for Logan's evaluation.

"Pep," he said, cigar on the side of his mouth and stop-watch in his hand. "You know the objective was to go _through_ the maze… Not blow your way out."

"Hey," I huffed, "I got through the maze!"

He laughed and wrote down something on his clipboard. Meanwhile, my teammates gathered around me with water, a towel, and inquired about my shoulder. It burned like a mother, and Tess pealed open the back to reveal a black and swollen joint.

"God, that's gonna suck," I hissed.

Ethan grabbed a water bottle, turned the water inside to ice, and pressed it against my injury. The make-shift treatment helped until Dr. McCoy arrived.

Tess and Nate had gone through before me with no effort. Uri zipped through like the lizard he is: instinctively knowing where to turn and slipping through any prison. Unfortunately, he hadn't heard the missiles coming, and was knocked out cold. He didn't get to finish at all. Renegade avoided all the traps, but couldn't find a way out before his time expired. And Ethan was disqualified for cheating, although _I_ didn't think using his powers to control the walls was cheating. I expected to be disqualified, too.

Instead, Logan said: "New record, pepper. Congrats. Looks like I'm gettin' soft in my old age."

Ethan jumped up. "What d' you mean? '_New record'_? She used her powers same as me! If I got disqualified, why doesn't she?"

"Never said you couldn't use your powers, dumb ass!" Logan snarled, "That defeats the purpose of _Mutations Control_. LeBeau used her powers like she's been trained to: as a last resort, in a controlled environment, and with a purpose. You get in there and just start _throwing_ things around. First day you walked into this school, you could do that much! I never saw you use anything I've _tried_ to teach you. So if you wanna make the cut, I suggest you dig some of that crap out of yer ears and start listenin' to Summers!"

"This is _bull shit_!" Ethan shouted.

Nate tried to admonish him, but Ethan stormed away, turning the bushes to rock so that Logan couldn't use the obstacle course again.

"Let the little prick go," Logan growled. "Yer better off without him."

A tense silence settled over us before Uri cheered: "So congratulations, 'On! You've set a new standard in learned recklessness!"

.::.

Thanksgiving arrived, bringing with it snow and good news. Just before the students were released for the holiday, Ms. Frost-Summers confirmed she was half way through her pregnancy. I didn't notice a change in Mr. Summers, as I had seen in my father when Rogue was pregnant, but I noticed a quiet change in Ms. Frost-Summers. She was… more _content_ now.

My step-mother was still "suspended" from her duties as an X-Man, but continued to teach at Xavier Academy. Personally, I didn't understand how she could stand to _look_ at Mr. Summers, but I knew her heart was wandering away from combat and politics. She was carrying her third child, and wanted to provide her children with a sense of stability. Her greatest reluctance was my father: Papa would never surrender a life of danger. Men like my father (and Mr. Summers) didn't live for happiness or the thrill of a dollar bill. They lived for _risk_. I wanted Papa to leave the X-Men, too, mostly for reasons of selfish pride. I wanted Mr. Summers to come begging for my family's help as he'd done before. I wanted to hurt and humiliate him – to take what he loved most.

But truthfully, I could do nothing more to hurt him than he'd already suffered. His marriage to Ms. Frost-Summers alienated him from many of his dearest friends. She was his _only_ confident now. He spent more time trying to hold the X-Men together than he spent fighting for mutant rights. His daughter was lost in time and space, and in the summer, Nate would abandon him, too. He might never know his baby sister the way I knew the twins. I could hardly imagine Mr. Summers' suffering, but to me, it wasn't enough. So imagine my outrage when Momma told me we'd be celebrating the holiday at Xavier's home. At first, I refused to go, but my parents gave me no choice. Maybe they could force me to go with them, but they couldn't _force_ me to enjoy myself.

"I _hate_ that man," I confided in my mother on the ride.

She and I rode with Renegade and Hero in her new Rolls-Royce. (Momma was too practical to spend that kind of money on a car herself; it was a thirty-second birthday present from Johnny.)

"I hate 'm, too, _chere_. But what I always tell you?"

"Keep your friends close, your enemies closer, and your kin closest of all."

"Good girl."

…

All of the X-Men and their families filled the great dining room. Three extremely long tables provided enough seats for everyone and held traditional dishes: turkey, stuffing, sweet potatoes, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, corn, squash, rolls, pies and muffins. The silverware was polished to a shine, and the china was laid out immaculately. Just above the delicate gold-brimmed plates were name tags printed in raised black letters. Overhead, the crystal chandelier reflected a dozen or more burning candles. Underfoot, the marble floor had been waxed so thoroughly I could see my calves' reflection. And in the air lingered invisible, pleasant music and insatiable smells.

Ms. Frost-Summers greeted us, looking flawless as always. Her bleach-blond hair fell like a curtain over her neck and shoulders – every strand in place. She wore a white, sleeveless dress with a plunging neck-line and slits up to her knees on both sides. Her breasts were even larger than usual, and her round belly was firm and perky. She wore silent, four-inch heels that I thought were completely unnecessary for a woman carrying a child. Apparently, this woman _never_ dressed comfortably.

"Dis a family celebration or cocktail party?" Momma whispered to Rogue. Obviously, we were dressed for the former with turtle-necks, pull-over jackets, jeans and sneakers or boots.

My step-mother giggled and nudged Momma as Ms. Frost-Summers reached us.

"LeBeaus! My favorite Cajuns."

Ms. Frost-Summers kissed checks with Momma, Papa and Rogue and spared a warm hug for us children. She smelled more like European perfume than cooking grease, so I knew _she_ hadn't prepared a single dish. What sort of a mother didn't _cook_?

"Make yourselves at home. Just waiting on Charles to finish dressing, and we'll be ready to eat."

"Is he gettin' that bad?" Rogue asked quietly.

I ran after the twins as they climbed into seats not assigned to them.

"Not yet, kiddies," I said, taking their hands. "Why don't we go find Oncle Kurt's name on the Phoenix memorial?"

"Funny," I heard Ms. Frost-Summers say as we left. "Thought she'd expunged all the French from her vocab."

Ollie and Becca each wrapped a hand around my index fingers, and we began the slow walk to the rear exit. However, I'd failed to anticipate the popularity of small children. Despite having lived with us for seven days, Tante Ro and Logan were eager to spend more time with the twins.

"It has been so long since we've had infants to introduce," Tante Ro said, proudly bouncing Ollie in her arms. "Let us indulge ourselves."

She winked at me and I followed her to a crowd of three young, attractive couples speaking with Dr. McCoy and Dr. Reyes.

"If you'll pardon the intrusion," Tante Ro cut in, "I don't believe you've had the pleasure of meeting the LeBeau children."

"Oh! Is this Olivier?" The woman closest to us cooed. She wasn't much older than me, but shorter and thinner than I was. (Most women were, regardless of their age.) She was a very pretty girl with blond hair and blue eyes - much like Ms. Frost-Summers - but unlike my headmistress, this girl had a natural beauty and made herself approachable.

"Yes, Paige, this is Ollie. Child, say hello to Miss Paige Guthrie."

My little brother smiled until his dimples appeared and replied: "_Bonj'ur mad'moiselle_."

All four women put a hand to their hearts and "_awwww_"ed in chorus. ("My god! I want one!" added the woman with thick green hair.)

"Can I hold him, Storm?" asked Paige.

Before Tante Ro could answer, Ollie reached out his arms and Paige swept him up. My godmother put an empty hand on my shoulder. "This is Gambit's eldest, my first godchild: Honor. Dear, I am sure you've heard their names… This is Warren Worthington, Bobby Drake, Alex Summers… Lorna Dane and Madeline Pryor."

"Nate's momma?" I blurted without hesitation.

They laughed at my enthusiasm, for which I was immediately embarrassed, but her visit took me completely by surprise. She looked _nothing_ like the woman in the decade old picture I'd glimpsed in Ms. Grey's office years ago.

"You can call me 'Maddie' for short," she told me with a smile. Maddie had auburn hair, freckled skin, and dark green eyes that reminded me of emeralds in an unlit safe. Her presence was very different from Ms. Grey's, which is probably why I'd missed her. She wasn't aggressive like Ms. Frost-Summers, nor was she as passive as Ms. Grey. I would've described her as… _wounded_.

"Nate didn't say you were coming," I told her. "But I suppose I should've deduced that, since he wasn't going to see you for the holiday."

"Now, let me see if I can remember you all…" She looked at me thoughtfully. "You're not the one who jump-starts mutations… You're the one who blows things up. You play piano. Have I got that right?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Honor... Yes. So much easier to remember now that I have a face to go with the name. Nate tells me about all his friends," she explained to the others. Then, to me, she said: "He says he's almost as close to you as he is to Rachel."

"Oh… well…" I felt my face burn. "I don't know… I mean, I… You haven't met my sister, Becca!"

The adults laughed again, and I wished I could stop making a fool of myself. My little sister buried her face in Logan's neck so that only her chocolate curls were visible. I was relieved when Bobby took over the conversation.

"You look comfortable with her, Wolverine. You aren't thinking about adopting one of your own, are you?"

"What's the matter, Drake? You feel a little _cold_ watchin' everyone else move forward while you go nowhere?"

Even after all this time, I could still be shocked by Logan's ruthlessness. Poor Bobby had been dumped, duped and discarded more times than anyone deserved. It took a lot of courage on his part just to attend the party. Two of his ex-girlfriends left him for Alex Summers, Ms. Frost-Summers had used him like a towel, and he'd once had his eye set on Rogue. And for Logan to throw that in his face was just _mean_.

But Bobby was used to it. "Nah. Warms my heart to think of you on diaper duty."

Alex intercepted any possible fight by asking me: "So only three of you? Scott always makes it sound like there's a _pack_ of you."

"Well, that's Hero over there. She's my mother's child – not a LeBeau, obviously. And there's my foster brother, Renegade. Momma's taken him in."

"That must be Bishop's kid," Lorna said quietly to Alex.

"We don't talk about it, if you please," I said with more force than I'd intended.

"Big family," said Maddie, "And you _all_ live together?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Wow," she said solemnly. "Your parents _really_ love you. You have no idea_.._. _No idea_ how much they love you…"

"You're a very lucky girl," Alex agreed. "Scott and I were raised in separate foster homes. I always wanted a brother or a sister to grow up with."

I was shocked. "That's… _exactly_ what Nate said…"

"Looks like Charles finally made it," Warren said, looking at the staircase. "Think we'd better find our places."

Logan easily took Ollie from Paige. His parting words to Warren were: "Careful, Worthington, you might have competition. He's closer to her age than you are."

I tried not to laugh at Logan's meanness. "You always gotta be so rude?" I asked him as we walked away. "We can't take you _anywhere!"_

I took my seat near my parents, and was surprised to find out we were beside the Summers/Frost/Pryor clan. Nate and I caught each other's eyes and waved since we were too distant to speak. Over our heads, our mothers smiled at each other, too. Looking around the room, I saw all the families together: the Guthries and their dates, the Beaubier twins, the St. Croixes, the original X-Men (minus Jean Grey), and most of the current X-Men, including Jubilee, Hellion, the Stepford Cuckoos, Karma, Ms. Pryde and her date Pete. Sadly, Professor Xavier was the only one without family or at least a date. But I suppose he thought of the X-Men as his family…

"I'd like to thank you all for making the journey during this hectic time of the year," Professor said to the room at large, and I noticed a sacred hush fell over restless feet and gossiping tongues. "It would be utopian to think everyone here loved and cherished each other, but I know many of you despise each other. And yet you came anyway - because we are a family. I hope we can learn to forgive each other while there is time. As you all know, we lost a great man this year. Kurt Wagner – Nightcrawler – will be greatly missed. But we have much to celebrate, as well. Scott and Emma are expecting their first child together; Remy and Rogue are expecting their third; Paige has her choice of the best universities in the nation; and Monet's decided to move to Europe, where she'll be working with my dear friend, Dr. Moira MacTaggert. I cannot begin to imagine where the following months will lead you all. But I know that I am very grateful to have this time with you now. Enjoy your evening."

The food was delicious and provided in abundance, but I left hungry for all the gossiping I took part in. Nearly everyone spared a greeting for Maddie, but she and Momma got along like old friends. Apparently, Maddie didn't abide by Momma's "I'm happier divorced, but I'll always love your father" mantra, and she had no qualms discussing her problems with Mr. Summers. (Naturally, we adored her.) Making sure not to be overheard, she told us how she met and fell in love with her ex. They married less than a year after they met, and Nate was born a year after that. Maddie said their biggest problems came from the X-Men. Mr. Summers was always so secretive, and always put them before his wife and son. He wasn't even present at his son's birth. About the time Nate started school, Mr. Summers took a "business trip" to New York, and Maddie didn't hear from him for three months. Finally, she traveled to New York herself, and discovered he'd made amends with his ex, Jean.

Jean Grey looked strikingly like Maddie, but had never heard of _Mrs_. Scott Summers _or_ their son. Maddie was understandably irate, and for years did everything to keep Nate away from Mr. Summers and his new wife. If not for Alex working as liaison, Maddie might have succeeded. Instead, they reached a custody agreement that left Mr. Summers mostly absent, and when he _was_ required, he still failed to fulfill his obligations.

"So imagine my surprise," Maddie said, "when my sixteen-year-old son tells me, 'Mom, I think I need to live with Dad for a little while. Just a year or so. I'm worried about him handling Jean's death.' Well, we see how he handled _that_! You know, if I had it all to do again, I'd do a _million_ things differently. But for all my mistakes… To end up with a son like that… To raise a man with a heart of gold, I guess I did all right."

Maddie's dark eyes glassed over and Alex patted her hand.

"You did a _damn_ fine job, Maddie."

It suddenly occurred to me that the Summers family was one ripped by sorrow, and not for the first time, I was glad Mr. Summers wasn't _my_ father.

.::.

The sun had set by the time we returned home with our guests: Maddie Pryor and her son Nate. I was eager to show off our house, but Momma stopped us shortly after the threshold.

"Somet'ing's wrong…" She said, almost sniffing the air.

Rogue picked up the twins while Papa proceeded slowly into the living room. His body slipped into the shadows.

"_Belle_!"

I followed Momma after him and found Bishop sitting alone in the dark.

"Who's with you?" He asked.

"Lucas! For god's sake-"

"Don't turn the lights on, please. Are you alone?"

"Scott's ex-wife and-"

"Get rid of them."

Momma looked at me. For the first time since the Guild massacre, my curiosity got the better of me. For once, I wasn't afraid to know what was going on.

"Ask Renegade," I told her.

She flicked an eyebrow at me – telling me not to challenge her. With a groan and roll of my eyes, I quickly returned to our guests.

"Sorry about that, everything's fine. Would you like to see your rooms?" I motioned for them to proceed up the staircase while Momma closed the living room doors. Rogue smiled politely and took the twins to their rooms. Once they all were out of hearing range, I whispered harshly to Renegade: "Find out what's going on."

He nodded and vanished into his smoke state.

Reluctantly, I carried Hero upstairs in her car-seat. "Nate, you can bunk up with Renegade, and Ms. – Maddie, you can stay in the guest room by the twins. They sleep through the night, so you shouldn't have any problems. The bathroom's right down the hall. Are you thirsty? Is there anything I can get you?"

"We're fine," said Nate, dropping his mother's bags in the nautical themed guest room. "I'd like to give mom the tour… Is that all right?"

"Huh…"

I thought about my parents downstairs with Bishop and hesitated.

"Well," I answered, "Rogue just put the twins down, and I need to get Hero to bed, too. Think it could wait until tomorrow?"

"Sure, honey," Maddie said. "I had a long flight. I'd like to get some rest, too… Now that I don't have to worry about anyone _snooping_ around in my _head_."

As I left to put Hero down, Papa passed me in the hall. He spared a good-night hug and kiss for me, but I saw his red and black eyes flicker towards the guest rooms. He was looking for Renegade. With a knowing smile, he proceeded to the twins' room. I carried Hero into her room, which use to be Momma's walk-in closet. My baby sister's room had no door, yellow walls decorated with bumble bees, and matching furniture made of polished cherry wood. As I laid her in her crib, smoke slipped through the air vent overhead.

A moment later, Renegade re-formed.

"You ain't gonna like dis," he warned me. "Bishop's gotta go in hidin'. He – he come to say good-bye."

I was instantly torn in a hundred directions. Who was he hiding from, and why? To me, he seemed _invincible_. Why would he waste time and risk his life he see Momma? And would we ever see him again?

Deep inside my mind, I dipped my foot into the river.

"_Sorry to surprise you like this, Bella." Bishop said. "I revoked my access to your security systems, so it won't happen again. I've left something for Wolverine… He should find it in the next day or two. If you like, he can take my place as your failsafe."_

"_Why you leavin'?" Momma asked him._

My vision didn't extend to the full area of the room, but I saw enough to know they were alone. It was dark, and Momma drew the curtains shut. Bishop approached her, but kept a respectable distance.

"_I killed a girl. Cyclops isn't happy about it, and someone tipped me off that he's put me on his __**black**__**list**__. I think it's best for everyone if I take a little… __**break**__."_

"_Where you gonna go?"_

"_Time is my friend and his enemy. I will hide there."_

_Momma nodded, gripping the curtains and not looking at him._

"_T'ank you. For everyt'ing."_

_He hesitated. "Is it too much to ask for you to look at me?"_

_She quickly spun around, tears brimming in her eyes._

I saw her move to close the distance between them, and pulled my foot out of the river. The image faded like ink in water, and left me gasping for air.

"You a'ight?" Renegade asked me.

I looked at Hero sleeping peacefully in her crib, so unaware of how her life had just changed.

…

Maybe I should have just accepted Mr. Summer's decision… Everyone else seemed to. But the angry beast inside me refused to sleep. It paced around in my belly, feeding on every insult, humiliation and injury until its rage ruled in my mind.

I could've killed him easily. Or with a phone call, I could have him killed. No. I could trust this job to no one else. I would destroy him _myself_. Even if I failed and _he_ killed _me_, I would be victorious. A headmaster killing his own student? Farewell career. No prison cell could protect him from my father. The war between them would tear the X-Men to shreds. It would destroy them from their souls to their public persona. Sacrificing my life would almost be worth it… But I would destroy my own family in the process, and my revenge wasn't worth that. This would require skill and precision. I lay awake that night, planning my next move. For all my anger, I could think of no situation that would satisfy the beast _and_ my conscious.

A few hours before dawn, my personal line rang. It was Tess.

"What happened?" she asked. "I can feel you raging from here."

I smiled, loving her with all my heart. She was in Maine, spending the holiday with Uri and his parents.

"Cyclops put a hit on Bishop," I quietly told her. "He came to say good-bye to Momma. I don't think we'll ever see him again."

For a long time, she said nothing. Finally, she said: "We'll get him, baby. Don't you worry."

.

_To Be Continued…_

.

**Author's Note: **The words from Robert Green Ingersoll at Kurt's funeral were given originally at Walt Whitman's eulogy. It's a shortened version. If you'd like, you can find the full version on-line. It's beautiful and makes me cry every time I read it.


	2. Making Things Right

**Disclaimer: **I do not own.

**The Ballad of Honor and Tess**

**Chapter Two: Making Things Right**

The Monday after Thanksgiving, the students of Xavier Academy crawled back into the campus. The group moved like molasses in winter, their minds more focused on another holiday than they were on mid-term exams. I was probably the only one excited to be back because it meant a return to Tess. Twice we were caught passing notes, and every teacher (except Dr. McCoy) threatened us with detention for talking during class. Finally, we managed an escape. During study hall, we snuck up to her room and our conversation turned into a make-out session.

When I tried to unbutton her jeans, she grabbed my hand: "Don't… I don't want Bethany to walk in while…"

I nibbled on her ear. "While you're screaming my name?" Reluctantly, I forced myself off her bed and pulled my clothes back on. While I was tying my boots, she sat in front of the mirror and brushed her hair.

"Does Nate know?" She asked, watching me in the looking glass. She wasn't referring to us making out. She was talking about the latest drama in my family. Bishop, my baby sister's biological father, had pissed off Golden Boy Summers and was on the run. It shouldn't have bothered me, but it did. Tess promised to help me find a way to set things right again.

I looked back at her. "I don't know. Why?"

"We need to find out. Mr. Summers _is_ his father… It could be a liability."

"It's not the sort of thing Mr. Summers would brag about, _particularly_ to Nate. But Nate is telepathic… And he obviously knows his way around one-eye and Frosty." I finished tying my laces. "Do we _want_ him to know?"

"What he knows is irrelevant. _How_ he knows it is everything."

Chewing over her words, I remembered my father's… _experience_… with "Foxx". When Mystique came slithering into our lives, Papa tried to keep me in the dark. Foxx was my only source of information, and she played me like a fiddle – convincing me that she really _was_ having an affair with my father. I never betrayed him, but my family was torn apart nonetheless. That's all she wanted to do, anyway. If I had been presented with the _same_ information _differently_, Mystique would have found a fortress where she found a tool.

…

I didn't see Nate until lunch time. By the time Tess and I reached the table, the guys had already divided the bounty, which was half-finished.

"Where _you_ two been?" asked Renegade.

Uri turned his back to us and made kissing noises while running his hands up and down his ribs. I made my seat by him, knocking into him so violently that he almost fell to the ground. Across the table, Tess gracefully took the space between Nate and Ethan. Tension lingered between our senior members, but Tess didn't realize until it was too late. She grabbed Uri's canned peaches, Nate's apple, and a banana from Renegade and me. While mid-reach for Ethan's orange, he suddenly grabbed his tray and left. We watched him exit the cafeteria without a word. Then eight eyes turned to Nate.

"Don't look at me!" He fumed. "This is _your_ fault!" He pointed at me. Then, with a glance at Tess: "And yours…"

Everyone looked at me for a response, but my eyes were fixed on Tess's cold gaze. Her blue eyes were fixed on me like a lion's on dinner.

Sure, I knew Ethan had a crush on me. Everyone did. But he was a senior and I was a sophomore; he was eighteen and I was fourteen; he was a _man_ and I was _gay_. The barriers were just too great for him to entertain the notion of our mutual attraction being fulfilled… Or that's how **I** felt about it.

"Summers - a word?" I stood and left, knowing he'd follow me.

Once we were alone in the halls, I turned and confronted him.

"What'd you tell him?"

"Nothing."

"Think it's _funny_? Spilling all my secrets, _knowing_ how he'd feel about it-"

"Now just a damn minute! I didn't tell anyone _anything_. You and Tess aren't exactly _covert_. For Christ's sake, you disappeared during study and now she has a brand new outfit!"

I watched him for a moment, trying to figure out if he was telling the truth. His grey eyes bravely peered into mine, broadcasting his righteous anger. The pace in his breath was steady and shallow, but a line had formed between his brows, signaling anxiety. He really was a pretty boy – even when he was pissed.

"I heard that," he said seriously.

I couldn't help but laugh at him.

"Are we cool?" He asked, the corners of his mouth breaking. "Then I need you to make things square with Ethan."

"I dunno, Nate… Maybe he needs some space."

"First that fight with Logan, and now he doesn't like you, either. If we're going to be a team, we need to work out our differences."

"Aw, listen to the golden son! Your papa must be so proud!"

"Bite me."

.::.

Ethan was sitting on the bleachers, keeping a distance from the others on lunch break. His back was turned towards me, but I saw him tense as I neared. The fact that he never turned around was evident of his attitude. Last year, Ethan shaved all his hair so the salty ocean couldn't destroy it. Although he still surfed, he'd let his hair grow out, and now it was long enough to tie back. When he hunched over, as he was now, his inky locks shadowed his eyes and nose. I circled around to face him and saw that his mouth was a thin, short line. For a moment, I wanted to tell him to go screw himself. I could love whomever I chose, and he was just going to have to live with it! But he was my friend. I climbed the three bleacher benches to reach him and sat down beside him. We were so close that our sleeves brushed, and I could smell the cigarette smoke still in his clothes.

"What's your deal?" I finally said.

He looked at me with burning, violet eyes. "You know, it's just like Summers to send a _stupid little girl_ to do his dirty work. Do you do _everything_ he wants you to?"

"Call me that again, and you'll be chockin' on your goddamn teeth," I snarled.

"I thought you were different, 'On! But you fell for that _rich_ boy – hook, line and sinker, just like _everybody_ else! I thought you-!" He stopped suddenly, shook his head and looked away from me with contempt.

"You thought what?" I pressed. "_What_? He's our _captain_, for godssake! You expect me to hate him just because _you_ do?"

"What's he got that I don't have?"

I had never expected to hear those words come out of Ethan's mouth. To my knowledge, Ethan rarely compared himself to Nate, and always found himself superior when he did. I was fiercely loyal to Nate. He'd always been there when I needed him, and he'd always put my needs before his own. That loyalty almost blinded me to the pain Ethan felt, which was the true source behind his anger. _Almost_.

"What's this about?" I asked, forcing my nerves to calm. "No one ever said Nate's better than you."

"I thought you wanted me to _wait_. And I would have, you know. I would've wasted the best days of my _life_ waiting on some _tease_."

My temper flared up again, and this time, boiled over. "This is because of the funeral, isn't it? You think Nate and I are dating because he helped me off the stage? You never even **asked**! Did it ever occur to you that maybe – _just maybe_ – I was having a _really_ bad time? I would've held _Mr. Summers'_ hand if-!"

"I saw the two of you on the porch _before_ the service."

"Ethan, I'm _gay_! I'm with _Tess_! Sorry if you missed that memo!"

He sat perfectly still and silent, his blue-purple eyes fixed on me. I realized I was panting, and a good bit of people I didn't know were also still and silent with eyes my way.

"Why?" He finally spoke. "You need her to do your homework?"

If there's one thing I've learned from my parents, it's that there's a time for _words_, and a time for _action_. This was a time for action. I stood up and kicked Ethan's face. He saw it coming with time to flinch, but my boot still left an impression on his cheek. He tumbled backwards off his seat, striking the metal floor before landing on the hardened earth. Everyone on the bleachers quickly moved away, and with good reason. Without even looking to see who he might injure, Ethan touched the ground and hard bedrock erupted through the surface. Golden, rounded sheets of stone knocked the bleachers around like a tin can. As I leapt from my unsteady platform to the field, Ethan transformed the blades of grass to crystal shards. Too late, I realized my predicament. I could do nothing but watch in horror as the little emerald knives drew closer and penetrated the soles of my boots.

…

Sometime later, we were both confined to the sick ward. Ethan had a sprained jaw, and I had tiny lacerations along the bottoms of my feet. Luckily, I wore combat boots all the time, so my shoes bore the worst of the damage. The most tender part of my flesh tingled, burned and itched, but would heal in a few days.

Logan was first on the scene, and charged in like a bull. He threw the damaged, aluminum bleachers aside like a tumbleweed and grabbed Ethan by his collar. I could hear him shouting until spit speckles rained. When I didn't turn to face Logan, he snarled: "Whaddya standin' around for?"

I neither screamed nor cried out when my feet were stung. I had the discipline to refuse my body's strongest urge – run away from the pain – because I knew the crystals would rip open my feet and then stab my hands or butt or whatever I landed on. But when Logan yelled at me, I finally lost it. I screamed so loudly that Nate heard me in the cafeteria. Then I stood in place, sobbing, until Logan cleared a path with his claws and gently picked me up. What a ridiculous sight we must've been: short, stocky Logan with a face of steel carrying a sobbing young woman with giraffe legs and bleeding boots. I cried while he carried me the entire length of school grounds. Once I saw Dr. McCoy, I felt instantly better.

He bandaged my feet, set Ethan's jaw, and gave us both sweets while Ms. Frost-Summers investigated the situation.

Ethan and I knew to keep our mouths shut. Telling them the truth wouldn't ease our coming punishment.

Papa arrived at the sick ward just as Ms. Frost-Summers removed an emerald blade from my boot. The weapon was beautiful. Winter had killed most of the greenery, so the blade was just over an inch long and thin as paper. When the stone caught the light, the rich color shone like a diamond, except for the tip which was murky with blood. I expected my father to freak out, but he was very much in control of himself. He approached Ethan's bed and spoke in an even, measured voice.

"I invite you int' my home… Give you a place at de table… Trust you wit' my child… And _dis_ is how you treat her?"

"It's not his fault," I said for Ethan since he couldn't speak. "I started it. It's _my_ fault; I shouldn't have underestimated him."

"If you sayin' dis 'cause you're scared, _petite_-"

"I'm not afraid. I hit him first and he retaliated."

"Why'd you do that?" Ms. Frost-Summers asked, crossing her arms. Her massive breasts juggled around between her limbs.

"He – he was making fun of my girlfriend."

Papa and my headmistress exchanged glances, and then Papa sighed: "Didn't we teach you better den dat, _catin_? When you _don't_ go for de kill, _dis_ is what happens."

"_Gambit!"_ Ms. Frost-Summers tried to sound condescending but failed.

I had to suffer through a lecture from nearly every instructor, and Ethan received academic probation. Afterwards, he and I tried to go back to normal, but our friendship was coming undone. Our flirtatious banter turned derogatory, and since he was obviously banished from my house, my friends excluded him from their plans.

"This _wasn't_ what I had in mind when I asked you to talk to him," Nate told me as we walked to practice.

Because of my injuries, I couldn't participate, but still chose to attend. My attendance would make Logan happy, and also give me a chance to support my squad. If Ethan showed up and I didn't, they might turn against me. I hobbled along on wooden crutches dressed in my uniform. Nate held the door open for me, and we were the first people on the field.

"I _told_ you he needed space," I told him. "He's feeling rejected, that's all. It'll pass."

"I hope so," he started stretching. "The only other person who really talks to him is _Uri_. I thought you were a much better candidate, but if he won't listen to you…"

"I'll fix it," I said shortly. "Nate… I need to talk to you…"

He looked concerned, so I continued.

"Thanksgiving night, Bishop came to my house uninvited. That's not like him at all. He came to tell Momma good-bye, and that's not really like him, either… To make a big show of something like that, you know… I think he's really gone for good."

Nate helped me sit on the frozen earth (the crystalized grass had been burned), and we stretched our arms together.

"I thought you were scared of him," he said.

"I'm not afraid of him! I never _liked_ him, but he's Momma's friend and Hero's father."

"Only genetically. He was never _with_ your mother, and he signed legal documents saying he'd never have any responsibilities to your sister."

"Doesn't matter _what_ he signed," I said hotly. "He'll always be her father. A girl needs her papa… Trust me, I know."

Nate's face softened and he stiffly patted my knee. "Is it a mission or something? Some undercover thing he's worried about?"

I feigned shock. "No… You don't know? Nate… He's on the lam."

"Bishop? He's the most upstanding, self-righteous asshole around. And crazy powerful to boot. Who's _he_ running from?"

"Your father put his hounds on him," I said quietly. "He ordered X-Force to kill Bishop."

My tone was soft, but the words were harsh. Nate looked like he'd received a blow to the gut, and I felt guilty for hurting him. After he caught his breath, Nate pulled at his hair and hid his face from me.

"Nate-"

He jumped up and stormed away, kicking over a weight bench and punching the wall on his way. As his shadow disappeared back into the locker room, I cried after him.

"I'm sorry!"

A few moments later, he re-emerged from the tunnel and returned to me. He kneeled (I was still strained in a sitting position) and gripped my shoulders tightly. When he spoke, his voice trembled.

"How many times have we heard it? 'X-Men don't kill'. It's what gave us moral superiority. Without that, we're just another army fighting for domination. We're just pawns in a game, you and me. I won't be a part of it."

My eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry."

"Don't you ever apologize to me again. You've opened my eyes, 'On. Now I've got to do what I've gotta do."

"Nate!" Panic rose in my chest. If anything ever happened to him, I'd never forgive myself.

"Where's the rest of your team, junior?" Logan asked. He entered the field, apparently unaware of our conversation.

"Logan," Nate stood and faced him, "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm resigning my position on the team. I won't be fighting for Xavier anymore."

"So you know," Logan responded. Just for a second, his steely eyes glanced my way, but then he returned to Nate. "Your old man's made a lot of tough decisions over the years. Comes with the job. That's no reason for you to abandon your squad. These kids look up to you."

Tess, Renegade, Uri and Ethan walked onto the field as Logan spoke.

"Who's gonna lead 'm if not you?"

"I'm sorry, Logan," said Nate, "I just can't be a part of the X-Men anymore."

"You don't even know why Cyke did it," I said quietly.

"Doesn't matter. The worst Bishop could've done is killed someone – an innocent. And my dad's responded with the same tactic. It's wrong. We have a justice system, and I know Bishop would've honored that system. What have we _become_?" He asked Logan.

Logan said nothing for a long time. Twelve eyes watched him expectedly.

"Locker room," he finally said.

Uri and Tess helped me stand again, and we followed our squad leader back inside. The little, cement room was tense. Ethan checked the stalls and behind the lockers to make sure we were alone, but Logan already knew we were. Once the team settled again, he spoke. "This is the squad of misfits. In case you kids don't already know it, nobody wants you. Ain't for lack of talent; they're afraid you'll go rogue. And no one wants to groom a super villain. What that _really_ means is they're afraid of what you can do. I ain't afraid of nothin'."

"We've got the Omega bullies and the Stepford mind-controllers, and they're worried about _us_?" Uri asked with offense.

"_You_," said Tess dryly, "And _you_ who didn't even get through the maze."

"Now the self-appointed leader of Xavier's legacy is makin' enemies," Logan continued. "I understand if that makes some of you want to turn tail and run, but you ain't solvin' the problem. The only way to do that is stay and face the fire."

"You should know," Nate told the room at large, "My dad wants Bishop dead. Whatever he's done, he doesn't deserve to be hunted down and slaughtered in the street. If the X-Men think this is right… I'm not ashamed to oppose them."

.::.

I couldn't say things had gone exactly as I planned, but the end results were acceptable. In fact, this scenario was probably _preferable_ because now I knew Logan was on my side. My team appeared to keep our secret, although I couldn't count on it remaining a secret much longer.

After practice, I headed home with Papa, Rogue and Renegade. She'd been to the doctor and her pregnancy had been confirmed, and they both very excited about it. Papa wanted to tell the twins about it as soon as we got home, but Rogue wanted to postpone the announcement. She was given a due date, too – July 9th – although it was almost certainly wrong. I'd been through this song and dance before. The date would be moved up and up the longer Rogue carried her child, and then the baby would still come early. Conceiving didn't seem to be a problem for her, but pregnancy was very difficult. I could guarantee she'd never carry to full-term.

"This means, of course, we'll have four youngin's under three," Rogue said, picking at her corduroy pants. "Three of 'em mine…"

"Nothin' we can't handle," Papa said cheerfully. "Ain't like it's just _duex_ of us. We got Belle an' Honor… And Renegade's good wit' dem, too."

"What if Belle decides she wants to get married? She could move out an' take _all_ our help. 'Sides, it ain't right for Honor to constantly be baby-sittin'. She oughta be able to go out while she's young and enjoy herself."

"When de last time Belle even had a _date_?"

"Remy, Ah'm bein' serious."

"What you sayin', chere?"

"Ah… Ah don't know…"

Truth be told, Rogue was just as worried about Papa _wanting_ her to resign as she was worried that he'd _oppose_ it. She didn't know what she wanted or what was expected of her.

Back at home, the twins waddled precariously downstairs and ran to hug Rogue. They were very excited about my crutches, and I moved very slowly to avoid crushing a toe. I could've never made it up the stairs, so Papa carried me and Renegade carried my walking sticks. The spiral staircase to my room was too narrow, and I would've been strained in case of an emergency or nature's calling.

Until my feet healed, I'd sleep in the guest room across from Renegade's.

Papa laid me in my temporary bed and tucked the blankets around me.

"She not a _tite_ _fille_!" Ollie giggled.

"She a _big_ girl!" said Becca.

They both stood at the foot of my bed, their freckled faces barely peaking over. It was remarkable to me that they could stand at all with heads so large and bodies so small. Their tiny, tender feet could easily fit in the palm of my hand. Twenty tiny fingers, each no bigger than a match stick, grasped my blanket for support.

"She'll always be my _tite_ _fille_," Papa said sweetly and kissed my forehead.

As the twins followed him out, they stopped by my head, pulled themselves on my mattress, and kissed me good-night, too.

After the house went quiet and dark, and I was sure everyone was asleep, I hobbled downstairs to the telephone.

It rang three times before Johnny answered.

"Honorita? Is everything okay?"

"S_í sí," _I whispered, "Could you come visit me for Christmas? We're in New York now, you know."

"I know where you are. Did something happen? Are you in trouble?"

"Please don't worry. Everything's fine, really. Rogue's pregnant again."

"If you want me there," he said, "I'll be there."

"Thanks, Johnny. _Ame tú_."

"_Ame tú_ _bien_, Rita."

…

Things were lining up perfectly thus far. I took it as a sign from heaven that I was doing god's will. If I were not meant to take this path, surely I would have received some sign. But all the pawns were moving in sync. I had just one obstacle left… Ethan. I didn't want to put off our reconciliation forever, but we easily missed each other for over a week. We had different classes, and with mid-terms, there was little time to talk. I knew if we didn't settle this before our Christmas holiday, it would never be settled.

The day before Christmas Eve, school let out early. Papa and Renegade were ready to go, but I made an excuse about fetching Rogue and bolted for the library. I knew I'd find him there.

Ethan sat alone… as always.

"Can we talk?" I asked softly.

"Last time… Didn't end so well."

"I promise not to kick you in the face if you promise not to stab my feet… Or talk crap about Tess."

"And my crotch."

"Pardon?"

"Promise not to kick my crotch, too."

We smiled easily, and I felt the tension between us evaporate.

"I'm sorry; Ethan, but I love her. I've loved her since the first day we met. We-"

"Please stop. I got it. We never would've worked out anyway… You care too much about what your parents think, and they don't me anywhere near you."

"They _liked_ you until you ruined my boots."

We were quiet for a while, and he made a point to avoid my eyes.

"So… we'll see you next Sunday?" I asked.

"I don't think so, 'On. Nothin' personal."

"Right… Merry Christmas, E."

I backed out of the library, not knowing if we'd made amends or not. Ethan was as confusing as a damn woman.

.::.

By Christmas morning, my feet were better and I was back to my own room. I woke up to the sound of laughter and cheering, and followed the noise to the giant evergreen in the living room. Of all the issues my parents had to compromise on, Christmas was perhaps the most surprising. The conflict came from my mother being raised by her grandparents, who spoiled her; and my father being an orphan until he was ten. Even after Jean-Luc adopted my father, he still never had Christmas presents or birthday parties. Jean-Luc was from another world, where Christmas was celebrated with candy and family visitations. To Papa, the notion of showering a child with mountains of presents – _just_ _because_ – was ludicrous. _This_ Christmas, it was safe to say Momma and Rogue won. Once the gifts were divvied up, I realized I had considerably less presents than usual.

"Nate's right," I said. "You _do_ get more presents when your parents hate each other! You two need to start fighting again."

"You ain't a little girl anymore," Momma said, "Christmas ain't _about_ you."

"What she means t' say," said Papa, "Is now dat we got de family we _really_ want, you get second best."

We all had a laugh and I threw a balled up piece of wrapping paper his way. The twins were really more interested in the paper and boxes than they were in their presents, and Hero slept all morning. Renegade was almost too ashamed to open any of his presents. I knew he was overwhelmed by his good change in fortune. After he opened his boxes of clothes, a portable CD player, and a few movies, he gave Momma a black velvet box containing a gold bracelet.

"Never give anyone somethin' nice before," he said sheepishly. "I used my street earnin's to get it."

It was very nice – probably the nicest gift she received until Johnny showed up – and I know it meant the world to her. The jewelry had seven golden links that wrapped around her wrist. Five bricks had names inscribed on them with tiny birthstones to the left side: Honor with sapphire; Renegade with garnet; Olivier and Rebecca with moonstone; and Hero with aquamarine.

"Gotta work on fillin' up dem other two slots," said Papa.

While everyone chuckled, I noticed Momma rubbing the corners of her eyes.

Later in the day, I called Tess and Uri to say Happy Hanukah, but there was another reason behind my call. Uri planned to use the holiday to come out to his parents. They still thought Xavier Academy was for "gifted youngsters", and were a little in denial about the reason for his strange skin pigmentation. Uri wasn't really sure how they'd take it, so Tess offered to go along for support.

"So 'd you tell 'm?" I asked.

"Yeah, but I still don't think they believe me," he said. "My mom said there isn't a mutant epidemic, there's an epidemic of mutant diagnosis."

"_What_?"

"I don't know what that means either."

I could hear him rolling his eyes, and I silently shook my head.

"_But_," said Tess, who was listening on another phone, "At least they didn't say they wished you were dead. That's something."

"You're right," I said, "It could always be _worse_."

"Have you seen Johnny yet?" Uri asked.

"No, he and Solie are coming for dinner. But I'll tell them you said hey."

"Like _Johnny Sanchez_ has any idea who _I_ am…"

"Send our regards to your family, too," Tess added. "I love you and miss you. _All_ of you."

"I miss you, too, baby. My parents got you some stuff. I'll bring it to school."

Uri gagged. "If you two are getting mushy, I'm out. Later!"

I heard his end of the phone click, leaving Tess and I alone. We were silent for a while, just listening to each other breathe.

"Do you think it'll work?" she finally asked.

"Yes," I replied. "We have heaven on our side."

…

I tried to look nice without looking dressed-up for Johnny. He and Solie arrived at seven, and as soon as I saw her, I felt inadequate. I never felt like I had to compete for Johnny's attention, but when his girlfriend had flawless bronze skin, enormous fake boobies, and inky black hair that went on forever – I must've faded _just a little_ from his vision. There were kisses all around, we ate, and then stayed up late gossiping and sharing news. Slowly, the number of people downstairs whittled down. Renegade was first to leave, followed by the kiddies and Rogue. Papa headed up around midnight, and several hours later, Momma kissed me good-night.

"_Mi_ _amour_," Johnny put a hand on Solie's knee, "Why don't you turn in, too? Honorita and I have some catching up to do."

She left him with a kiss.

"So what's wrong?" he asked quietly and looking very serious. "Trouble with your folks? Or something worse?"

"I told you, it's nothing like that. I just… My friends and I went to Mutie Con when it came around. Do you remember hearing about it? Mutant interest is a _huge_ untapped market. We – Uri, Tess and I – were thinking we'd like to start a club of sorts. Just so mutants can get together and exchange information in a safe way, without worrying about exposing themselves."

"Sounds like a good idea."

"The thing of it is: we need money to get started. We've got big plans… There's the potential to organize medical and scientific information, to effectively communicate our needs to Congress-"

"Isn't that what the _X-Men_ are supposed to do?"

"_Mr_. _Summers_ doesn't speak for _me_."

"Your parents won't give you the funding?"

"I don't want my parents to have anything to do with this."

"I see," he rubbed his chin. "So how much do you need?"

"I have every intention of paying you back. _With interest_. And as our patron, you can claim a percentage of the profits until-"

He put up a hand and shook his head. "_How_ _much_, Honorita?"

.::.

With practically unlimited funding from Johnny, Tess and I sprang into action. Much of what we needed to accomplish was free and easy to access, but we needed the appeal that only money can buy.

We called our little club "Mutant Freaks". It was an on-line organization where everyone felt safe and unanimous. In the beginning, we had just a few members, but soon their friends joined and then their friends, too. People began to open up more and more about their physical ailments, their feelings of isolation, and their struggles to find acceptance. Our members weren't all mutants, though. A lot of our regulars were parents of mutants, or teachers or psychologists or college students. Some of our guests were mutant haters, but I didn't band them from joining. Dialogue was an important step on the road to a peaceful co-existence, and on this platform, _they_ were the minority. However, a good bit of people were just _curious_. Part of the reason for our immediate popularity was my "exclusive" access to Dr. McCoy. Mutant Freaks helped him publish his theories, which simultaneously copyrighted the material and garnered feedback.

Even over the internet, Tess and I required bank accounts, aliases, and a face for our company. We decided to become the puppet masters, and Ethan was our puppet. Why not? He met all the requirements we didn't, and he was stupid enough to go along with it. For a time, he let us make all the decisions - financial or otherwise. We watched his every action. Every penny, every new web page, every sponsor came and went at _our_ choosing. The web site made its first ten thousand in January, so I paid off my loan with Johnny.

_That's_ when Ethan got a hair up his ass and decided to take the reins for himself. First, he neglected to pay our legal fees. Then he "misplaced" five-hundred dollars. When he tried to bar Tess and I access from our own accounts, we knew we had a problem. His name was on all the paper work and mine wasn't. But I wasn't above killing him if that's what it took.

…

The hardest months of winter passed, and the twins found out about their unborn baby brother. Rogue decided to stay at Xavier's as an instructor and mentor, but wouldn't return to active combat.

Since Momma was graduating in the summer, she decided to hire a nanny for all the kiddies. After an extensive search, she finally bought in a heavy-set, middle-aged woman from Russia who'd raised both mutant and non-mutant children. Lena couldn't run after the twins when they were feeling frisky, but she had a fifty-yard stare that _no one_ would misbehave under. And her experience with mutant children was an asset: if any of the little ones had an "accident", she wouldn't scold and humiliate them. In the beginning, I was concerned about the security risk Lena presented. Apparently, my father shared my thoughts because he asked me for my opinion. I used my powers to learn a little more about our new employee and she checked out.

Shortly thereafter, Papa hired a gardener to keep up with the yard work, and we hired a new security consultant, too.

My friends teased me about our household staff, but truth be told, they were a big help. Now I had time for M.C. practices on Monday nights, tutor lessons with Ms. Frost-Summers on Tuesdays, date night with Papa on Wednesdays, piano lessons on Thursdays, and website maintenance on Friday nights. I still watched the twins on Saturday nights, but during peak-homework weeks, Lena would take them for me. And, of course, Sunday was family day.

The Sunday following Valentine's Day, Nate had a big announcement.

"I found a job in Alaska," he told my mother, but loud enough for everyone to hear. "I'll be working as a luggage handler at the airport where my mom works. It's not glamorous, but the pay's decent."

"_Chere_, ain't _no_ job glamorous when ya get down to it," Momma replied. "What about college? You gotta plan for dat?"

He laughed as if he'd heard that question a million times already. "There's a technical college I'll probably sign up for."

"Oh Nathan, dat's no good. Sounds like you ain't sure. I wanna _hear_ you say you're goin' to school. You're too smart _not_ to."

"I _will_ sign up for night classes, Momma Belle."

"Dat's better. Now don't make me come up dere, and I _will_ if I hear you're goofin' around. Cajuns and snow don't mix."

"Snow's got nothin' to do with it," I told him. "It's _airplanes_ she can't stand."

"Don't worry about the snow," Nate told her. "If you survive the plane ride – and that's a big _if_ – we have polar bears waiting at the terminal to eat you."

The twins giggled like a pair of little Christmas bells. Becca looked at him with big, green eyes full of admiration, but he'd already turned to Renegade. They were discussing Nate's soon-to-change living situation. Under the table, Tess brushed her leg against mine. Clear across the table, Momma handed off Hero to Lena, and Rogue dropped her fork. No one except Papa and I noticed she was having difficulties breathing. Once she caught her breath, she was visibly in pain. She leaned back and then forward again, biting her bottom lip and finding no relief. Finally, the agony released its grip on her, and she panted as she relaxed.

"You okay, _chere_?" Papa asked her quietly.

During her fit, the whole chaotic table had fallen silent.

"Ah'm fine… Just a contraction." Then, to us younger adults, she said: "They come sporadically. It's really not uncommon to get 'em this early."

"But dat wasn't a little one," Momma told her.

"Wasn't short, either," said Papa. "You wanna go t' de hospital?"

"No, Ah'm sure it's nothin'."

But she didn't sound sure, and less than fifteen minutes later, another contraction hit. By the time it had passed, Papa had the car ready and Momma and I pushed her out the door. She'd had trouble with the twins almost from the start. Maybe it was a blessing that she'd gone five months without any complications, but I had a terrible feeling this time. When she got into the car, I wanted to run after her. I didn't want her to leave. I thought if anything should happen, then she should be warm and loved at home instead of at that cold, sterile hospital. That thought made me sick all night.

"Should I leave?" Nate asked me after dinner.

The house had fallen strangely silent, only the twins making noise out of ignorance. We were all edgy waiting on a phone call, but minutes and then hours passed without a word.

"I mean… if you think I can help, I'll stay. But I don't wanna be a bother. I can take you and Renegade back to the school, if you think that's best."

I turned my head and looked out the window for the millionth time. I was acting like a house pet who had been unexpectedly abandoned, and made a vigil at the window for lack of anything useful to do. "I don't know," I told him truthfully. "I guess… Just go back to school. When we hear something, we'll let you know."

"Please do. I don't care how late it is."

Before I could respond, I suddenly became very light-headed. All the strength drained from my body, and I slipped into darkness.

_Rogue sat in a narrow hospital bed, the white gown crumbled around her body like a cheap piece of litter. Bitterness brewed in her belly where life had once been, and her heart ached so badly that her entire body throbbed. The grief would kill her, and soon._

_The nurse bravely handed her an undeveloped son. Wrapped up tightly in a white cotton blanket, the child was smaller than a football and weighed less than a kitten. His pink, wrinkled skin was too frail to conceal the pin-thin veins beneath it. He had no hair and his eyes were sealed shut. But his little mouth, which would never suckle or kiss or take its first breath, was slightly opened as if trying to tell her a secret. Whatever he wanted to say would have to wait. His parents tried to squeeze a lifetime's worth of kisses and tears into a few, very brief minutes, and there was no time for words._

_Then the doctor took her son and placed him in a cardboard box, and she wished with all her heart she could take his place._

"Babe! Baby girl!" Tess lightly tapped my face with the back of her hand.

I came back into my body, aware of the panic in her voice. I took her hand and felt it was wet. Even unconscious, I had been crying.

"Okay…" I said, "I'm okay…"

Nate, Tess, Renegade and Momma were standing over me. I saw the worry in their eyes and felt guilty for adding to their concern. Should I tell them? How could I? I shook my head and looked away from them, tears still coursing down my face.

A short time later, Papa finally called with the sad news.

.::.

Everyone deals with grief differently, I know that. I was surprised that Papa returned to work two days after Henri's death. The topic still brought tears to his black and red eyes, so I was eager to avoid it. Personally, I threw myself into my grief and thought I'd never recover. But four days after my little brother was stillborn, I found myself ready to return to the world. The subject was still a sore point, but I could feel the wound beginning to heal. I still felt angry and bitter and sad, but those emotions were quieting down now. My curiosity and energy slowly returned: dragging me back into life was surely as fresh oxygen and blood.

Rogue took much, much longer to recover…

Henri was cremated, but we decided to erect a memorial on our property. The stone, child angel was life-sized with robes and hair blowing lightly on the winds of eternity. Its hand was half-raised and it's eyes half-lowered… Maybe to symbolize the life half-grasped. Beneath its sandaled feet were the words:

Henri Cody LeBeau

18 February 2004

The statue was beautiful and thoughtfully selected. We placed it close to the house, but out of plain sight. That way, Rogue could visit it, but wouldn't be forced to remember it. We hoped the memorial would help provide her a sense of closure. Even Jean-Luc flew over for the informal service. No words were spoken. We just stood still and shed our tears, and then Momma and I returned to the house hand-in-hand.

"Did you see dis comin'?" she asked.

"No… Papa's future's always been a little screwy. He's going to have dozens of children and live forever. That's what I See."

"I t'ink your papa's found a way to block his fortune from bein' read."

"Yeah," I laughed for the first time in days. "That _would_ make more sense, wouldn't it?"

That night, I had an ugly feeling I just couldn't shake. I'd come to learn this was a premonition, but it only made me angry. The bad event had already passed. Where was this feeling when it might've _helped_? And why was the feeling _still_ so vague? 'Something bad is about to happen'? No _wonder_ no one trusts a fortune teller!

After piano lessons with Mr. Bobert Anderson, I tried calling Tess.

"Sorry, chica, but I can't really talk right now. I've got three papers due in addition to my obligations to Freaks. And yours, too, apparently."

I slammed the phone in the cradle, not bothering to say good-bye. For several hours I tried to distract myself with music, television, food… Nothing helped.

"_What_?" I asked myself. "What do you want?"

I was too afraid to accept this new path I'd been forced down. Henri's life and death had changed my life – _all_ of our lives – but only I was aware of it. I was resisting this change. Secretly, I was afraid of the unknown. But to refuse this alteration was disrespectful… It was like trying to deny his very existence. I let my hand pick up the phone and call Ethan.

"'Ello…?"

"Ethan? Sorry to wake you. It's me."

"I know who it is."

I said nothing for a long time and neither did he. For a moment, I was afraid he'd hung up on me.

"Ethan?... Can you come over?"

"Do you have any idea what time it is? Your house is an hour away."

"I understand if you can't, but I can't sleep. I just really don't wanna be alone right now."

He hesitated. "You've got a house full of people."

"That's-" my voice caught as I realized what I was saying. "That's not what I want. Please. I just really need someone to talk to. _Please, _Ethan."

He sighed. "I'm getting dressed now. Leave your window unlocked."

Why did I call _him_? I could've called Nate or Uri, and they would've come. I could've pulled Renegade in my room and cried on his shoulder all night. If I didn't want to be alone, I could've crawled into bed with Momma or Papa and Rogue. It wouldn't have been the first time.

But that wasn't what I needed.

I brushed my hair and considered changing out of my pajamas, but decided against it. I looked very pretty with my strawberry blond curls wrapping around my slightly flushed face like ribbons. I was wearing a long-sleeved grey sleeping shirt with buttons down the front. Only Reese Witherspoon could make this attire sensual, I decided, but I knew my bare legs were quite provocative.

An hour and fifteen minutes after our conversation, he crept in through my window. I'd left the lamp on for him. He was dressed in street clothes, and I immediately felt under dressed. I tugged at the hem of my shirt and he blushed.

"Why'd you call me?" He asked.

"I don't know. I was just lonely and sad and I wanted you."

He sat down awkwardly on my bed and told me about the day his parents died. The family lived in Florida at the time, and they were driving through a rain storm when the car hydroplaned and flew off a bridge. Ethan only vaguely recalled plummeting into the river below, and had no idea how he survived. His parents perished together, and he was rather coldly thrown into the foster system. He told me about the many years he'd cried alone, feeling their loss as keenly as ever. No one ever cherished him and understood him like his parents. The Fongs didn't treat him like a burden or a tax check, but they were still no substitution for his mother and father.

"So…" he concluded, "I guess what I'm trying to say is… I understand what it is... To feel _lost_."

"Ethan… I'm so sorry…" I threw my arms around his neck, and he hugged me back. His hands stroked my spine, but I knew he was checking for a bra.

"For what?" he asked.

"For everything. I'm sorry about your parents' deaths and this Freaks thing and… And I'm sorry about Tess…"

"You should never be sorry to have someone you love," he said.

"Strange to be here with you now… Talking about her. Where is _she_?"

Our hands had slowly begun to grab and tug at each other. Nothing elicit had happened, but it was wrong to be holding him in my room at night. It was wrong to _want_ him this way.

"I know everyone wants you," he said. He softly kissed my neck and chills ran down my spine. "If you don't want me to… Just say so."

"Don't stop," I whispered.

With a throaty growl, he grabbed my neck and kissed me like I'd never been kissed before. At first, I found the masculine things about him revolting, but it wasn't long before those feelings vanished like smoke in the wind. Something deep inside me took over, and my body responded to his actions. His heavy, tanned hands moved like butterflies from one button to the next, opening my sleeping shirt and then pushing it back over my shoulders. I sat before him, naked except for a pair of white panties. He kissed me again, and softly pushed me down. I reached over to turn the lamp off, but he stopped me.

"I want to see you…"

He laid on me, still fully dressed, and I loved the way his clothes felt against my skin. For a brief, terrifying moment, I thought how humiliated I would be if anyone ever found out we'd done this. What if Papa walked in? What if Ethan told Tess?

I pushed him away. "You won't tell anyone about this, will you? Tess-"

"I won't say anything," he said dismissively, and returned to kissing me.

I don't think he'd ever made love before. He certainly required a lot of instruction: "Suck my nipples… Not so _hard_!", "Tug my hair", "Do that again, I like that"… And I was glad he wasn't my first experience. But what he lacked in knowledge, he made up for with enthusiasm. I appreciated his generosity; so much of the time, Tess just _laid_ there and made me do all the work.

He stripped his clothes with remarkable speed and then pounced on me. What I saw of his body, I liked. His skin was still sun-kissed from the summer months with a drastic white block where his board shorts sat. His body was long and lean with firm but understated muscles beneath his golden skin. And that mysterious member, which had been my torment and obsession for so long, seemed familiar and unremarkable.

Three times he tried to enter me, and three times I closed my thighs and pushed him away. I felt the power in his arms: he _could've_ forced himself on me.

Instead, he sat on his heels and huffed: "What the fuck, 'On? Do you wanna do this or not?"

Tears welled in my eyes.

"Is it Tess?" He spat hatefully. He turned and grabbed his boxers.

"No… It's Nate."

He looked at me with shock and disgust.

"When I was twelve, Nate and I were abducted," I told him. "We did horrible and wonderful things. The very worst of which… Someone possessed Nate and raped me with his body. I haven't seen a naked man since."

"I understand if you can't do this."

"No," I said firmly. "I _want_ to."

He looked at me for a long time. I could see the battle waging in his mind. Should he stay? And risk the repercussions? Or should he leave, and pretend this had never happened? We both had to stop _thinking_ so much. I threated my fingers in his shaggy black hair and kissed his mouth. He didn't immediately respond, but eventually he did give in. His rough hands pulled me over him, and we lay down together. A hand slipped between our bodies, and he gently probed my opening. His fingertip barely brushed in and out, as if trying to reassure me that there was no pain. Surprisingly, the tension beneath my skin mounted. I never thought so little stimulation could be so exciting. A pain in my lower belly cried out for him.

"Ethan… Do it…"

"_You_ do it," he whispered hotly against my ear.

Clumsily, impatiently, I grabbed his long, smooth cock and positioned it against my privates. With a swift thrust of his hips, he was inside me. We both let out a long, soft moan as I rediscovered hidden parts of myself. Then we moved together, against each other, and together again until the bed rattled and the floor squeaked.

For so long, I thought sex with a man had to be excruciating. But Ethan was nothing like Nate. There was no burning, no stabbing, no resistance or pain. My body opened up for him like a flower to the sun, and wept with gratitude. I could feel the wetness on my thighs. Thankfully, he found it erotic. I was a little embarrassed myself… He turned me over so that he was on top, and pounded into me with abandon. He finally struck that little button of pleasure deep within, but the feeling was not comparable to the nub outside. After half a dozen thrusts, he pulled out and released his semen on my bare stomach. When he came, he didn't tremble like Tess and I did, but he grunted and closed his eyes. The look on his face was tender and beautiful, and I felt a sort of… _cherished_ feeling I had not expected to feel for him.

After we caught our breaths and cleaned up, he kissed me and left.

I didn't sleep that night, but at least I wasn't miserable the entire time, either. I thought about reincarnation. Tante Mattie told me that the soul of the deceased lingers with the family for a year, and if a baby is born within that year, it is most like the soul of the dead person. More than once, I wondered if I hadn't been Oncle Julien in my former life.

Now I wondered if I wasn't trying to reclaim Henri.

…

"_Mutant freaks_. That's what they've been called, and _now_ that's what they're calling _themselves_. It's an on-line gathering of mutant young people, and it's gaining momentum. Like so many of their members, the founders of Mutant Freaks have remained unanimous. Until today.

"I have with me the unlikely duo behind the latest mutant phenomena – Honor LeBeau and Tessa McNeil. Ladies, welcome."

Trish Tilby was wearing an impeccable, neutral-colored pant suit with dark red lipstick and her short, black hair combed and styled into submission. The interview was an exclusive, and was conducted in an intimate little room made to resemble an office. Tess and I wore our nicest casual clothes – dark slacks and blouses – and tried not to shake in our heels.

"Now, my first question – I have to ask – how old are you girls? You look like teenagers!"

"We are," I answered, "I'm fourteen and Tess is fifteen."

"And _you're_ running an international, million-dollar business? How is that possible?"

Tess and I exchanged smiles and she replied: "Just because we're young and female _doesn't_ mean we're incompetent. The internet's given us a platform where we can work and be judged based on our _ability_ – not our looks or age. And given the chance, we've proven ourselves. That's what makes Mutant Freaks work. Everyone is given a _real_ chance. It's inspired us to step into the limelight, and we hope it inspires our followers, too."

An hour later, the bright television lights were turned off, and we went to go wash the make-up off our faces. Ms. Tilby shook our hands and thanked us again. She had every reason to be thankful: we'd given her this interview for nothing!

I set up the interview, and an hour before I was supposed to leave the house, Tess and I finally came clean to my folks. They'd never heard of Mutant Freaks. They were terrified at the idea of me owning so much money and power without their control, and angry that I'd asked Johnny for the first loan.

"Dis ain't how we do t'ings," Papa had said. "You need help, you s'post t' come t' your family first."

They were even _more_ pissed when I told them I was giving an interview on national television.

"Everyt'ing your papa and I done t' give you a _normal_ _life_, and you wanna t'row it all away? Fine. _Fine_! But I ain't gonna have not'ing t' do wit' it!"

Truthfully, I _was_ a little worried about people seeing me. Did have enemies, after all… Mystique. Most of the Daumier clan. Tony Stark. And after this interview, I could probably count Ethan among them. But it was a necessary move in this game, and I'd deal with the consequences.

My folks eventually got over their fit, and come Monday morning, _everyone_ at school knew my name. Complete strangers approached me and started discussing my life. It was very odd. Of course, I was scared to death about confronting Ethan… He held so many cards against me. Would he tell Tess about our encounter? Would he drop off the team? We were in season now, and Nate needed everyone alert and dedicated if we were going to make it to finals. I didn't care about the games myself, but I didn't want to disappoint Nate or Logan. I confronted him alone before practice. I arranged for everyone else to arrive and warm-up early so that he and I would be left behind in the locker room.

"Ethan?" I interrupted him while wrapping his hands. "Can we talk?"

"Sure, babe," he said coolly.

"We… won't be needing your help anymore with Mutant Freaks. My parents are involved now, and we've lawyers, too. I know you tried to lock Tess and me out, but your security systems were easily compromised. I wouldn't suggest trying it again."

He stopped what he was doing and looked at me. "Why do you think you can just _use_ people like this?"

I shook my head and turned to leave.

"You know, Tess is fifty percent of Mutant Freaks," he said. "What do you think she'd do if she found out about us?"

"There is no 'us'. And if you go around _telling_ people there is, I'll kick your ass."

"I'll kick your ass back, baby girl. But I imagine she'll bring her share to me, and you _need_ her."

"You don't know her at all. Stirring up trouble won't make her stupid. She'll _never_ ask _you_ for help."

"But you need her," he said triumphantly.

He was right. I needed her, wanted her, loved her. I honestly didn't know how she'd respond if she ever found out about Ethan and me, but I knew it would destroy her trust in me. Without trust, there can be no love.

"Are you trying to blackmail me?" I asked irritably. "Because you could go to prison for what you did. You know that, don't you?"

"Yeah, right! Like your parents would _call the cops_."

"No, you're right. They'd _kill_ you first. Wouldn't be the first time, and they've been to prison before."

I saw the victory in his eyes fade a little. This was _not_ a bluff he wanted to call…

"Look, 'On, I don't wanna fight. And I really don't _care_ what Tess does, or _who_ owns Mutant Freaks. I just…"

"What?"

"I just want you to need _me_." His violet eyes were glued to the floor, and his head hung with shame. He turned and marched onto the field, already defeated.

I was so ashamed of myself. I don't think I could've felt any worse. Ethan was my friend, and I'd used him. I used him in every way possible, and he'd let me because he cared about me. Things might've been different if he had a girlfriend or mother or friends to support him, but he didn't. What little he had, he'd given to me in hopes that I would love him.

I was _disgusting_.

.::.

I didn't normally check the mail, but one day I felt compelled to do it. Among the things not addressed to me, I found a single white envelope with my name in the recipient box. The return address read:

**VF Daumier**

**1313 Hollins Drive**

**Beaumont, TX 77627**

I don't know why, but I gasped and held the paper to my heart.

Vaughn had written!

But why? And how on earth did he get my address?

I thundered inside, up the stairs to my room, and jumped on my bed, where I opened my secret letter. It's always a treat to get a _real_, actual letter instead of an e-mail, but this one was even more important because it came from someone who had roots in my old life.

_Dear Honor,_

_This is the first letter I've written for a girl. Sorry for the handwriting._

_We all saw you on T.V., and I've been thinking about you. I don't know if your parents told you, but I came to see you a lot when you were in the hospital. So now it's time to pay up. My old man's got strange cars following him again, and they've already taken his right leg._

_(Just kidding. If I needed money, I'd show up in person.)_

_You looked good in a healthy way on the news. Glad to see you didn't lose the use of your diaphragm._

_I'm sure you've got way more sexier people asking for your attention, so I'll let them get back to it. But for God's sake, girl, keep your clothes on._

_-Vaughn Daumier_

Unlike everyone else, Vaughn didn't take himself too seriously. It was refreshing and brought a smile to my face. After a slight hesitation, I pulled out a notebook and wrote back.

_Dear Vaughn,_

I couldn't tell him he was my only "fan". It would go to his head, and _I_ was the one with the successful business enterprise. But I didn't want to lie and make him feel insignificant, either.

_I do get a lot of letters, but only you still use paper. My e-mail address is . My old man will start to get suspicious if he finds out we're conversating._

_Actually, you're the only person from home to ever try to contact me. I really miss everyone. How are they?_

Honestly, I didn't know what else to say to him. We didn't really have a lot in common, and we were never friends.

_Sorry to cut this so short, but I've got a ton of work to catch up on. It was great to hear from you._

_Sincerely, _

_Honor LeBeau _

…

A month after Henri's death, Papa was deployed again. Rogue still hadn't returned to work, and Momma didn't want her left alone. It was difficult for all of us to watch him leave. I think we were afraid of losing him for good, but Tante Ro needed his help in Africa. She was in Wakanda, as she often was lately, and a mutant warlord was threatening to overthrow the weak government. Suppressing the rebellion was a matter of the country's survival, in addition to being a security risk for the entire region. The X-Men were involved because, of course, this situation made mutants look bad.

We escorted him to the loading dock in the school's basement, where we said our good-byes. The twins clung to his legs and cried, begging him not to leave. I was only slightly braver: I hugged him until he pried me off. He said good-bye to Rogue last, with his little ones still clinging to his legs. Then he boarded with Cannonball and Husk, and we watched the jet until it was no longer visible in the night sky.

On the way out, we saw Ms. Frost-Summers. Her stomach was swollen to massive proportions, but she remained as glamorous was always. My heart immediately broke for Rogue, who buckled the twins into their car-seats. She pretended not to see Ms. Frost-Summers, but Momma cornered her.

"Why you send _him_? You got a hundred lackeys-!"

"It wasn't _my_ decision, Bella. You know how he is with Storm. She called and he jumped. If you've got an issue, I suggest you take it up with _him_."

"_If_ he comes back. Anyt'ing happens t' him, it's gonna push her over de edge. How you Summers' _live_ wit' yourselves?"

An argument between Momma and Ms. Frost-Summers was not likely to end soon or well. I handed off Hero to Renegade and grabbed Momma by the arm.

"Come on," I said. "It's late and we're all tired."

"Makin' orphans every day!" Momma spat as we left. Rogue was in the driveway, feigning ignorance. She'd strapped the twins into our newest vehicle, a Lexus LX, and was waiting patiently for Momma and me.

"One day," Momma warned my headmistress, "Karma's gonna catch up wit' you!"

Ms. Frost-Summers was not the same cold-hearted ice-queen she'd once been. Maybe Momma didn't think her words bothered her, but I saw a change in Ms. Frost-Summers' eyes and a hand went instinctively to her large tummy.

Once we were alone in the car, Rogue said: "Ah shoulda gone with him."

"Don't be ridiculous," Momma responded. "You're still healin'. _He_ shouldn't've gone."

I hadn't considered it, but Momma was right. Rogue had given birth and her body was battered. It was unfair that she should suffer for nothing, and I couldn't help but wonder why. Why would God let Rogue conceive a child she could never have? What was the point in taking little Henri from his family? Last time, the doctors blamed Rogue's absorption powers, but she'd finally gotten it under control. That couldn't possibly be the reason for Henri's death, which made me wonder if there'd been other problems with the twins. Perhaps they'd been so quick to blame her _mutations_ that they'd overlooked another issue, ultimately leading to Henri's death.

I sat on the edge of my seat and wrapped my arms around Rogue. She smiled to herself and gently ran a hand over my bare arm.

We returned to an empty and dark house, but the front door was unlocked and the garage door was left open. Someone had broken in without breaking anything. We kids were told to wait in the car while Momma and Rogue scouted the rooms. No one was there, and nothing had been stolen. Some books had been thrown from the shelf, and some clothes had been tossed from the closets. But nothing, as far as we could tell, was missing. Jewelry, cash, our luxury cars were all left untouched.

While we combed through our belongings, trying to piece the puzzle together, Rogue said: "If they didn't come for our valuables, they must've been looking for information."

"Dey had a good bit already," said Momma, "Dey knew how t' get inside, and dey knew we'd be gone."

A chill ran down my spine.

The surveillance cameras had been compromised, which frightened me even more. Whoever did this had inside information. They could've gone after any number of things… Momma's payroll books with half the Guild's names, my computer where Mutant Freaks was controlled, or Papa and Rogue's room in search of access codes to Xavier Academy. These items were still secure.

"It must've been someone we know," Rogue said quietly. She lit up a cigarette (one of Papa's), and the smell made me miss him more. "You don't think maybe… Bishop?"

"He said he wouldn't come back, and I believe 'm."

"Momma Belle," Renegade entered the living room with his book bag. "You know, maybe I just lost it, but I can't find my class schedule."

The tension mounted and I was ordered to find mine. We all combed my room, but with no results.

"Who would target the _kids_?" Rogue asked.

"You're making a big deal out of nothing," I told them. "It's just a class schedule. The school year's almost over, it's not like we _needed_ it anymore. We probably just misplaced it and didn't realize."

"We can't take that chance," Momma said.

"We're _safe_ at school," I argued. "It's safer than being _here_! Who would try and kidnap us there?"

Shortly thereafter, Renegade found his loaded di missing. The little trinkets weren't worth much, but he was _sure_ he hadn't misplaced those.

"This is so _stupid_!" I fumed. "Schedules? Toys? Why are we freaking out about this stuff?"

"Someone's been here, chere," Momma calmly answered. "Ain't no one gonna steal de kinda information dey need t' get in for _nothin'_. Dey could be listenin' t' us right now. We gotta leave. Tonight."

"_What_? No! This is _ridiculous_!"

"We can't tell anyone where we're goin'," said Rogue. "Not Lena, not _Tess_, not Cyclops."

"But how will Papa find us?" I asked; my stomach dropping.

"He'll know," she replied.

This was absolutely the most _insane_ thing my family had ever done. Who packed up everything and abandoned their house in the middle of the night? And over what? A breaking and entering with nothing _valuable_ missing!

"I'm not leaving!" I insisted. "No one wants to hurt us. I think they're after Renegade – _he's_ the only one who got robbed!"

The natural response would've been 'why?', but the truth was, we knew almost nothing about him. We knew he'd had some trouble with the law and the Guild, but had he caused enough trouble for someone to track him down? Maybe he'd intentionally sold us out. We didn't know.

"Who's after you, _Courtney_?" I asked.

In a flash, he'd crossed the room, grabbed my neck and had me held against the wall.

"Courtney Smalls died in a fire," he hissed as my face turned red. "Let 'em rest in peace."

I went to kick his crotch, but Momma intervened and I struck her accidently. Renegade dropped me and we parted while Momma struggled to catch her breath.

"I'm sorry, Momma; I didn't mean to-"

"I t'ought _you_ send dat spy!" Renegade yelled at me. "The T'ieves were _happy_ to think I was dead till you went _snoopin'_ around! Whatever happens now, it's on _you_!"

He stormed out of the house, slamming the door on his way out. We waited for him all night, but he never returned. The next morning, he wasn't at school.

.::.

When Papa found out what happened, he wanted us to go into hiding immediately, but Momma wouldn't leave without Renegade. Without consulting Momma _or_ Rogue, he asked Logan to stay at our house until the matter was resolved. I trusted and loved Logan, but I didn't want him _living_ with us. When my friends inquired after my foster brother, I couldn't bear to face them. Reluctantly, I explained that we'd had an argument and he left the house. They weren't sure what to think, and as a squad, we had trouble working without him. Friday night, we barely beat the Alpha Squad, and _that_ should've been an easy victory. Logan had us do laps until sundown, although Nate accepted most of the responsibility. Afterwards, the five of us collapsed on the field panting, sweating and over-heated. Logan left us there in disgust; he didn't even have the courtesy to tell us good job.

"I think…" Uri gasped. "I'm gonna puke…"

"Turn your head," Tess panted.

"And cough," added Ethan.

Despite our misery, we shared a winded chuckle.

Alone under the stars, Nate told us: "I found out what Bishop did to piss off my dad… A girl was born in Alaska… Everyone thinks she was the reincarnation of Jean Grey. There's a prophecy that the return of the Phoenix will herald the end of the world… So Bishop killed her."

"Just like that?" Uri asked.

"Just like that," our captain answered. "But that doesn't change anything. My dad's still wrong…"

Tess and I exchanged a hidden glance.

"How did you find out?" she asked.

"I asked him. He told me the truth - I could hear it in his voice. And then I told him he was an evil hypocrite and I cursed the day he became my father."

A wounded silence overcame us. I reached out my hand and took his.

"I think I can make this right," he said. "But I'm going to need your help. Can I count on you guys?"

…

Saturday night, we met at the field long after curfew. We were dressed in our uniforms, just like Nate requested. We had no idea where we were going or how long we'd be gone, but there was an excitement in the air that mounted with time. We were finally doing something worthwhile! Once we were all assembled, he said: "We're going back to the day Bishop killed that girl in Alaska. We're going to let him think he succeeded and put her into hiding. I'll return us to this place, a few seconds after we leave, so the time line continuum won't be affected."

"Wait-" Ethan raised a hand. "You can do that?"

"No. But Ray can. Our link allows us to tap into each other's powers."

"Have you ever teleported this many people before?" asked Tess.

"_Of course not_. But I wouldn't _risk_ it unless I was _certain_ I could do this."

"Wait just a second," I said. "I can't let everyone here risk their lives – and _trust_ me – Bishop _will_ kill us if we get in his way. This is my business and yours. There's no need to get everyone here involved, too."

"You're not going _anywhere_ without me," Tess said crossly.

"Yeah," said Uri, "Your odds are much better with _five_ against one, than with _two_ against one."

"Who trusts a prophecy, anyway?" Ethan smiled.

..

_Cooperstown, Alaska  
_It was eleven p.m. on a Saturday night, but already the sleepy town had turned in. Even the hospital wasn't too lively, but a visitor strolled bravely down the side walk and through the front door. A moment later, there was a flash in the alley behind the building, and five young people materialized.

Bishop walked up to the front desk and said: "My wife's having a baby. Last name: 'Spalding'."

"One moment, please, sir… Room 213."

Upstairs, Baby Spalding was declared a girl, and her prints were taken for record. The poor mother had given birth alone, never giving the nurses any contact information. During the hardest parts of her labor, she cried for her mother, but this was not uncommon. Afterwards, she held the baby girl and then fell asleep. She'd earned it.

We saw Bishop charging for the room. He didn't waste any time, and our plan hadn't allowed for an immediate confrontation.

"I'll distract him," I whispered to my team. "Move your asses!"

I ran out into the hallway, not sure if I should try reasoning with him. It would buy me some time, anyway. But as soon as he saw me, he opened fire. I retaliated with my prayer beads, blowing out the floor beneath his feet. He fell to the first level, and I leapt through the opening after him. Already on his feet, he fired his plasma gun, burning my leg and leaving me stunned. I collapsed helplessly at his feet. Some distraction _I'd_ been.

"Sorry, LeBeau," he stood over me, his gun placed carelessly on his shoulder. "I like you, but that won't deter my mission. Now," he pointed the weapon at my face, "Where's the _real_ team?"

When I didn't answer, the weapon charged. Nurses and doctors rushed past me, but none of them spared one thought for helping me. The bright green light grew closer and closer until Bishop suddenly staggered. Uri jumped through the damaged floor and on top of my attacker. His weight pulled the gun out of my face, and when Bishop looked in Uri's direction, my friend spit a thick, yellow mucus in his eyes. Then he zipped away, carrying me down the hall in a zigzag pattern. Bishop fired blindly until we rounded a corner. Then he leapt back through the opening to the second floor.

"Lot of bloody good _that_ did," I said bitterly. I panicked to think of Bishop charging after Nate, who'd run out of time too soon.

"Get to the check point," Uri told me before running back into the fight.

Using my powers, I was able to keep tabs on them. Bishop walked into the room and fired immediately, shattering the window. Nate was still there and holding the baby, as I'd feared. At least he wasn't alone. Tess was there, and she was prepared for an attack. She'd made a bomb out of an empty rubbing alcohol bottle, some beach, ammonium and tin foil. The weapon was thrown at Bishop's feet, and the gassy fumes temporarily blinded and confused him. Meanwhile, Nate teleported away with the baby.

Uri rushed up behind Bishop, trying to push him out the window. He managed to get the would-be assassin to move a few steps, but he couldn't manage to slide Bishop clear across the room. As big as Uri was, Bishop was still stronger. He came to a halt and grabbed Uri, pulling my green friend around to face Bishop directly. Once again, my genius Tess came to the rescue. She struck a spark to the bomb residue, creating a fire in the doorframe. Now Bishop had no _choice_ by to jump out the window! Without patience or mercy, Bishop grabbed Uri and Tess by the scruff of their necks and carried them to the open window. The drop wouldn't kill them, but it could shatter some bones.

I ignited some of the holy beads Tess had given me and threw them north by northeast. But I didn't realize how excited I was, and the resulting explosion was unexpectedly violent, causing the floor and a large part of the wall to crumble. Worse, this was a signal for Ethan to proceed to the next step!

The hospital still wasn't evacuated!

The building shifted back and forth like sand in a sifter. There was no mistaking this for gun play – _this_ was an earthquake! I heard screams, cries of panic, and then the entire hospital imploded like a house of cards. Tons of cement turned into rubble. Tile shattered and paperwork caught fire. That was the point, of course. In order to keep the time line continuum correct, we needed to destroy all evidence of our involvement.

My last thought was of Tess, and how bright her eyes were when she smiled.

Tess and Uri had barely escaped the blast and subsequent earthquake. Bishop was still in the building, but close enough to an exit to have escaped.

_*Sage*_ Nate contacted her telepathically_. *Baby's safe. Ray just left with her. I've got Terris here. Proceed to the checkpoint.*_

_*What about Pochica? Is she with you?*_

_*Honor? No, she was with the Newt…*_

Tess realized their missing member had never left the building. She was likely among the scores of dead. There was a brief glimmer of hope, when a pile of rocks and dust moved, but it turned out to be a disoriented Bishop. She snatched the gun from his hand and opened fire on him.

"_MOTHERFUCKERRRRRR!"_

Blast after blast emptied on him until he was dead or close to it. Tess continued to pull the trigger after the magazine was empty, and after a few worthless shots, she threw the gun at him. Sobs wracked her body, and all Uri could do was watch. He'd never _seen_ Tess like this before…

There was another flash of light behind them, and Rachel and I appeared, covered in soot. When the building fell, I knew she was close by and aware of my situation, but Rachel and I had a brief and strained history. I didn't know if she'd come to my aid. Furthermore, her powers are somewhat shaky, and I wasn't sure if she'd reach me in time. Luckily, it had all worked out, and she got me out of the building in the nick of time.

I limped to the love of my life and tried to reassure her. My heart had genuinely been touched by her rare display of emotion, but I never wanted to see her in so much pain. Even when she had me, she still cried.

"Thank you," I told Rachel.

She nodded and vanished again.

The three of us walked to the checkpoint half a mile away. Tess and Uri helped carry me because my legs were still weak from Bishop's shot, but our spirits were light. We were all so glad this had been executed so well, but sorrow was never far behind. A lot of people were dead because of our clumsiness. More appropriately – because of _my_ impatience. I was worried about Bishop's well-being. He wasn't dead, but Summers would undoubtedly blame him for the blunder at the hospital. So Bishop was still on the run. On top of all that, Nate had to bid an emotional farewell to his sister.

The sun rose on a day we'd already lived, and we went home…

.::.

When we re-appeared on the field, it was daylight. That was our first clue to something being terribly wrong. I remembered too late that Rachel didn't have perfect control over her powers, and sometimes misplaced herself in the time line. We could've been in another dimension, trapped in a world we didn't belong. My apprehension subside as familiar faces quickly found us – Loa, Julian, Sofie, and most of the sophomores flocked to us like bees to a flower field. In bits and pieces, we were told that we'd been missing for three days. When our gatherers found out we wouldn't tell them where we'd been, they stopped providing information, too.

Before long, Ms. Frost-Summers came strolling towards us.

"Nate! Where have you _been_?" She embraced him firmly, her large tummy between them.

"Sorry, Emma," he stiffly patted her back. "Didn't think we'd be gone so long."

"Inside - all of you." She snapped, and led us into her office.

Mr. Summers was first to arrive, and he pulled Nate into his office. Even through the walls, I could hear them shouting at each other.

"Do you have any – _ANY_ – idea the kind of trouble you'd be in if _anything_ happened to those kids? Goddamnit, Nathan, they look _up_ to you! They'd follow you off a _cliff_ if that's where you led them! You can't just take matters into your own hands!"

"Be honest, Dad, you're just pissed because _now_ you've got to call off the hounds! And Em's pissed 'cause in eighteen years she'll probably get replaced with a little red-headed Alaskan girl."

There was a loud banging noise, and Nate yelled: "You wanna _throw_ things around now? I can play that game, too!"

"Jesus," Ms. Frost-Summers hissed and vanished into the other office.

While she was gone, Papa entered the headmistress's office. He swept me into a long, fierce embrace, and I felt the worry of the past three days in his body.

"I'm sorry you had to leave Wakanda," I said.

He shook his head. "I'm glad you okay…" A second later, he held out an arm for Tess, and she hugged him, too. He kissed us both on the forehead and asked what happened.

Before we could answer, a short, thin Asian woman with silver hair at her temples and lines around her eyes knocked on the opened office door.

"Esscuse me. I am looking for Mizz Frost. Ethan Fong's mother." Mrs. Fong spotted her son sitting in the corner and swept into the room, shouting at him in Chinese. She wore a pink, silk paint-suit and clutched her purse nervously to her stomach. Based on appearances, I would have thought she was a very meek and shy woman, but her loud, obnoxious voice pulled the Summers family back into the room.

"Mrs. Fong? Hello, I'm Ms. Frost-Summers: the headmistress here. This is my husband, Scott Summers. I apologize for all this confusion. Apparently, our group of missing students went on a time traveling trip. Ethan was one of them."

"You let the students 'ere go _time_ _traveling_?"

"No, maim, this activity was conducted without any knowledge of the staff. Unfortunately, in these cases, there isn't much we can do. All we could do was wait for their return, and luckily, they made it."

She stood perfectly still, trembling with rage. Then she turned to Ethan and began slapping his head. He put up his hands in defense, and through her high-pitched, Chinese accusations, he tried to explain: "Mom, it's no big deal! You're hurting me more than I hurt _myself_! Well, go on, then! Next time, I'll just _die_!"

"What happened, _catin_?" Papa asked me, stroking the strawberry-blond tresses along my back.

"We wanted to save Bishop," I said. "We made it right. The girl… Phoenix… She's safe."

He gave Mr. Summers a long, cold look, but neither man said a word. Then Papa told me: "Dis ain't your concern, chere. I know you worried about Hero, but you can't change de world for her. Dis is _exactly_ why your Momma and I told you not to be alone wit' Nate. Dat boy always puts you in danger. I guess you ain't gonna listen, so we gonna have to enforce it."

I panicked a little. "I don't understand why you're mad… Nate and I have done _way_ worse things than _this_! Wait… I didn't mean that the way it sounded, but it's _true_!"

"You mean like pinchin' a boat t' go swimmin' in de lake after curfew? Sneaking into de city? Usin' a fake I.D. to drink?"

Mr. Summers' face turned red.

I gasped. "You _knew_?"

"'Course I knew. Who you t'ink you _get_ it from?"

"But if you knew about all that stuff, why didn't you _say_ anything? Kinda figured I'd be in trouble."

"You young, chere. Dat's what you do when you young. But dis sneakin' off when I'm outta de country and you're Momma's worried dat someone's stalkin' her babies, and goin' somewhere dat can't _nobody_ help you… Dat's where I draw the line."

I felt a pain in my heart. "Did I scare you, Papa? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you worry. Please don't be angry with me."

I hugged him and he hugged me back.

"You not do it again, _catin_?"

"I won't do it again," I promised.

Ms. Frost-Summers put a hand to her heart and cooed. "That's so cute, I could just purge!" Then she turned to Nate and Mr. Summers and said: "Now _you_ two give it try!"

…

_Dear Honor,_

_Sorry. I don't do computers. If you're worried about your parents, I'll start using the alias 'Friends of Humanity'. That should sneak right past them._

_As for the family, they're good. Marie's still running the bar. I can't really say what my dad's up to. I don't see him much these days. My mom got married to this prick named Russ. If you're still in the biz, please take care of him._

_Not a lot of us left, though. Things aren't as important as they use to be. _

_We always thought the machine was bigger than any one member, but your family turned out to be the machine. Don't let it go to your head. I still hate your whole clan, but the hate held us together. Now we just sort of grope around in the dark._

_-Vaughn_

…

_Dear Vaughn,_

_If you hate me so much, why do you write me? Nothing better to do?_

_I'm not in the "biz" anymore, so I don't have to waste my time trying to patch things up with assholes like you. I'm in the biz of making money and kicking asses. If you're ever in NY, stop by my school. You always like beating on mutants, let's see how good you are now._

_Honor_

.::.

I was still grounded when Ms. Frost-Summers went into labor on April 28th. She delivered a healthy, eight pound baby girl that they named Megan Charlotte Grace Summers. We didn't visit them at the hospital, but did go meet them at home. The new momma was already moving around, bragging about how well her baby slept and ate, and how she looked like her parents. We all got to hold her, but I was worried about Rogue. How could she _not_ be thinking of Henri? Ollie and Becca watched us pass the baby around, and luckily neither one of them asked about their baby brother. Becca didn't seem very interested, but Ollie got right in Megan's face and studied her. Rogue told him to sit on his bottom and keep very still, and he could hold the baby, too. His little arms could barely contain the bundle, but he managed proudly. He kept an arm under her head and another under her bottom, just like Rogue told him to do.

"'Ello, _bébé_," he cooed at her. "Sleepy _bébé_."

It was the most precious thing I'd ever seen.

…

Although I couldn't hang out with my friends outside of school or take their calls or watch television, I was still allowed certain breaks. Momma decided my "date night" with Papa was still permitted, and it was one of the few things I looked forward to. Unfortunately, I caught a fever the day after Megan was born, and was in no condition to go anywhere. By that evening, I had a full-blown case of the flu. I was quarantined in my bedroom with Momma bringing me everything I needed. It was nice to be pampered, even if I was in agony. During one of my medicine-induced naps in the middle of the night, I dreamed a strange vision.

_Momma and Papa sat at the kitchen table, doing shots of tequila. Lime wedges and crumpled napkins littered the space between them. The bottle was half-emptied, leaving them giddy and a little too loud. Occasionally, when one of them got too noisy, the other would 'shhhh' them and put a finger to their lips or grab their shoulder. It was strange to think they shouldn't be like this together… What would Rogue think?_

_Papa downed two glasses in the time it took Momma to refill one._

"_Slow down, tiger! You got somewhere t' be?"_

"_Gotta numb de pain somehow," he downed another glass and hissed._

_Momma looked very sad. "Booz ain't gonna do de trick, chere. Gonna take somet'ing stronger."_

"_Mais, hopefully it ain't de lovin' I need, 'cause dat's in short supply!" He poured another glass. "Don't know how you do it, Belle. Dis no sex t'ing is killin' me."_

"_First, you got no idea what my sex life is like! Second, your wife just gave birth. Take a cold shower and buy her some damn flowers." Momma downed a shot._

"_Got nothin' t' do it dat," he said quietly into his drink. "She don' want me no more. It just like it was before. No touching. If she __**t'inks**__ I'm gonna try somet'ing, she bring de petites t' bed wit' us."_

"_Oh, Remy…" she sighed sadly. "What happened?"_

"_Henri," he shrugged._

_Momma thought quietly to herself for a minute. She refilled their shot glasses and they emptied them together._

"_I suppose she don' want no more kids, mebbe dat's why she do dis," said Papa. "But there's other ways a' goin' about dat. It ain't healthy… Like she's stravin' herself or somet'ing. She tell you anyt'ing?"_

"_She talks t' me sometimes, but not 'bout dat. Trust me, chere, sex is de __**last**__ t'ing on her mind right now. You just need t' be patient. Give her some time."_

"_I'm sick a' bein' patient," he snapped. "You know when de last time was she kissed me? Eight days ago! __**Eight!**__ She lay dere at night, cryin' herself t' sleep, and den she just __**lays**__ dere. She don't wanna hold my hand or hug me or anyt'ing. And damnit, __**I**__ lost him, too!"_

_He downed another shot while Momma watched him with big, sad eyes._

"_Man should only live dis way if he's single, but I ain't. I gotta wife, and dat's what I want. I don't want some platonic bed-partner who just helps me raise my youngin's. How much longer is dis s'post t' go on before somet'ing gives?"_

.::.

When things at home are good, they're very good. And when they're bad, they're very bad. Normally, I'd just spend more time with my friends or in my music room, but things weren't so great there, either. We still had no word from Renegade, and I suspect Uri was beginning to hold a grudge against me for it. He was closest to my foster-brother, and Renegade's sudden disappearance left a hole in his life. Nate was also carrying around a lot of bent-up rage; probably towards Mr. Summers. And any time Ethan, Tess and I were together, I spent all my energy trying to keep her in the dark.

Musically, I had a lot of inspiration, but those notes and lyrics were my secrets. I thought my songs were vague enough to keep my feelings hidden, but my family saw right through me like a chiffon curtain.

The piece I considered to be my "masterpiece" was a four-part classical sonata, each part only about three and a half minutes long. Personally, I felt the music was cheap and simple, but it reflected what I felt at the time. The first piece was a little slow and timid; the second piece, cheerful and fast; the third piece was full of longing and sorrow; and the final piece was serene but bold. I never played the song for Tess because I knew she'd see my motivation behind it: Ethan. But my friends heard all about it from my parents. Momma called me wise and profound, which I denied. Then she asked when I'd had my heart broken, and how did I manage to keep it from her? Papa was even closer in his deductions. In private, he told me that if whoever couldn't forgive whatever I'd done, then they didn't deserve me.

Rogue never pondered what the song meant to me… Most people didn't. She only knew what it meant to her, and she identified most with the third stanza. She use to sit in my piano room and ask me to play the sad piece over and over again, and I would. But I made her listen to the _whole_ sonata, and not just the piece she most enjoyed. I knew she was thinking about Henri. Like a vampire, she clung to the cold shadows, and shunned all things bright and cheerful. Listening to me play was a sort of exorcism for her.

Although I tried to pretend like everything was the same as it had always been, Tess noticed a change. Everything about me was different now. When we had sex, I was more giving and less demanding. My guilt drove me to overcompensate, and once she got over her initial suspicion, she started overcompensating, too. She was the first one to introduce the concept of toys. The phallic device was small and narrow like an engorged leech with the end hacked off. I wept when she held it, terrified she would prefer penises now. I was so sure _she_ had cheated on _me_.

At home, I was more secretive. At school, I was distracted.

Our child – Mutant Freaks – was the singular point of our connection, but even that lost its flavor. The thirst for revenge, which fueled my ambition, was quenched. Mr. Summers wouldn't kill Bishop, and Rogue had decided to quit the X-Men on her own terms. To torment my headmaster now would be a purely pleasurable pursuit, and I was not willing to sacrifice _anything_ to obtain it.

When I spoke to Tess about the issue, I found she hadn't changed her position.

"Freaks is getting to be a full-time job," she said. "The merchandise department _alone_ requires a full staff. And the security…"

I giggled. "You said 'full staff'."

"And the security is the best in the world. With the vote coming up for that mutant registration, there are a lot of people out there who want our information."

"Say it again."

"_LeBeau_! Would you focus, please?"

"Take a chill pill, babe. We don't have any information, so there's nothing for the hackers to access. And we have a _full staff_ for merchandise, so what's the problem?"

Since we were at my house, we kept our voices low. One never knew who was going to bust into my room with a basket of clean clothes or whatever other lame-brain excuse my parents cooked up to interrupt us. Tess and I were getting ready for bed, although my parents insisted on us taking different bedrooms now. (Like I couldn't just walk across the house after they'd fallen asleep!)

My folks had just taken me off punishment, and over last Sunday's dinner, all my friends eagerly re-hashed our adventure. Uri gave a play-by-play of Tess blasting Bishop after the building collapsed; Ethan told us about the power surge he got from leveling a building; Nate explained how his telepathy helped us keep in communication. My parents just smiled and shook their heads. What else could they do?

"I'm just _reminding_ you that we never planned to run this business long-term," Tess continued. "It was always meant to be a stepping stone. I understand that you've grown attached, but try to look at the bigger picture. We split with Freaks, make a quick ten mill each, and move on with our lives. Mr. Summers gets taken down a notch or two… The X-Men lose their divinity… If you give that up now, you might never get another chance to remind him that he's human, too."

"Who will lead them if not the Golden Boy?" I smiled.

"Does it matter?"

"No. Can you see it, Tess? For _once_, they'll be free to think for themselves! Half of them will be fighting for power, half of them will be too afraid to fight at all. It'll be anarchy…" I inhaled deeply, as if greeting a new and wonderful world. "_Complete anarchy_."

"Now that you're back on track, there's a company I've been looking into… The Hellfire Club. I think they're a perfect fit for our… _goals_."

"Nah – Frost use to work for them. I don't think that's a good idea."

"You don't know Sebastian Shaw," she said. "He's a ruthless prick. Information is right up his ally, and the Club has ties to everyone we need access to – politicians, reporters, CEOs."

"Tess…" I plopped down on my bed and dug my palms into my eyes. "Can I tell you what's really bothering me?"

"Of course, my love."

"I'm afraid someone I care about is going to get hurt… Nate or Megan or Ms. Frost-Summers. She's been good to my family."

"_Chica_," she said slowly, firmly. "He's turning into a tyrant. _He's_ going to get them hurt unless someone _stops_ him. I understand your guilt, but it's unwarranted. Once we make the sale, someone else will be doing the dirty work."

"And what if my family gets involved?" I asked, shaking my head. "I can't risk that."

"Your family's been hurt enough by Summers. Don't you think it's time to start fighting back?"

…

_Jesus On, _

_PMS much? I didn't know you __wanted__ me to like you. Our clans have always hated each other. Do you expect to ignore us for a year and change it? Or do you just feel so bad about getting your Guild slaughtered that you're friendly with everyone?_

_I'm __not__ your friend. I just wanted to say I'm glad you're not dead. I write because you're the only family contact I have. You're a spoiled bitch with creepy eyes, but at least I can be honest with you._

_O – I never hated you for being a freak. I hated that everyone treated you like a princess because of your mother. But you probably think you deserve every good thing you get and the only reason people hate you is because they're bigots._

_I don't like you __more__ for leaving us. I wish my pop had the balls to take this town because he could. Someone will someday, and if it's Clan Daumier, you can always have a job as my jiz rag._

_-V_

…

_Dear Vaughn,_

_I almost didn't write, but I wanted to make it clear that I don't ever want to see or hear from you again._

_You must be really sad and desperate if the only person you talk to is me. I thought you were living in the here and now, not the past and dreams._

_The sooner you become a skin-head Friend of Humanity and get yourself blown away by a freak, the better the world will be. So keep stealing liquor from your papa's cabinet, and keep festering on that anger about your mom fucking some loser who probably beats you._

_After all, that's all you've got._

_Sincerely, _

_Honor_

.::.

The end of the school year signaled the arrival of many events – prom, finals, M.C. try-outs... Without a doubt, the most anticipated occasion was homecoming. Obviously, there aren't enough mutant schools for Xavier Academy to compete with _other_ schools, so we competed amongst ourselves. During the first year of Hunter's inception, we defeated all the other squads at least once. We were _undefeated_, and we planned to stay that way. That year for homecoming, we were competing against the Corsairs: Mr. Summers' team. Rather fitting, I thought. The week prior to the big event, we were the big dogs on campus. Banners were posted all over the school, on dorm doors, and over the cafeteria. People dressed in either white and blue, to show their support for the Corsairs, or black and blue to support the Hunters. Some people took it quite seriously.

I didn't much care for all the fame. Logan summed up my sentiments exactly when he gave our 'pep speech' before the big game.

"I wanna see you kids knock that smirk off Cyke's ugly mug."

We beamed at him and charged out to the field. This game was very different from all the others we'd played so far. Not only was this game _larger_ – everyone and their parents came to watch us play – the rules were a little different, too. For one, the uniforms were modified from strictly protective gear to inhabiting devices. This was similar to the uniform I wore at Nate's try-outs, which were meant to "stun" without harming anyone. But these newer models could also restrict our mutant powers… _Just in case_ someone got carried away… Another modification was the challenges. For the big game, we had every obstacle imaginable. Each team had three hostages (not live ones) to retrieve, manikins to protect, heavy fire to avoid and a time limit, too.

Of course, we had a strategy.

Since Squad Corsairs' _only_ strong point was telepathy (they had _three_ telepaths!), we would fight them in the physical realm. Hand to hand, those losers didn't stand a _chance_! I was sure that even in mental combat, Nate could defeat the sisters with his eyes closed. Our only disadvantage was that we were missing Renegade when the Corsairs had Specter… Uri might not have been quicker than the eye, but he was slick. We'd make it work.

The starting shot was half-way out the barrel when Ethan and I sprinted towards the Corsairs squad, still warming the ground beneath them. The first rule of winning a war: shock and awe. Between the ground bucking from under them, the random plasma blasts firing at us, and my prayer beads exploding around their exits, they were pretty shook up. Predictably, the sisters tried infiltrating our minds. I felt a coldness sweep over me, and saw a shadow out of the corner of my eye. My concentration was only compromised for a moment, and I heard Nate say: _*Sorry, 'Chic! You okay?*_

_*Yeah! Get off your ass, Summers!*_

It was a shame, really, that he was stuck on defense. His telekinesis could really be an asset. He could levitate us in a pinch, freeze our opponent, or bring the hostages to us. Instead, he had to focus all his energy just on keeping the sisters out of our heads.

While Ethan and I distracted the Stepford Cuckoos, Uri dashed for the hostages. Maxwell was waiting for him, and after a brief scuffle (during which Max actually hit his own teammate with a spike), Uri lifted one of the three dummies and shot back to our side of the field.

There was a cheer from the stands, though it was dulled by the explosions and earthquakes, and the sound of telepathic warfare in my head.

I quickly checked our stats and discovered that Mindee of the Stepford Cuckoos was being removed for her injury. She was insistent on staying, but rules were rules. No one played injured. The Corsairs elected Specter and Dryad to retrieve the Hunter hostages. Tess was left to protect them, and easily took out Dryad. It looked like poor Callie had a broken wrist. My natural reaction was to think the Corsairs didn't know their opponents _at_ _all_, but it was just a distraction. While Tess was beating the crap out of dainty Callie, Spector moved in behind the girls and grabbed two of our hostages. I turned around and launched a string of beads just in time to catch Dallas in corporeal form. He dropped a dummy and staggered on with the other. Callie was pulled out of the game, too, and it looked like we'd _kill_ this team before we had a chance to win.

However, the break in formation was just the chance the Corsairs had been waiting for. I didn't realize how distracted we truly were until my vision darkened. I could remember the attack on Genosha, which left millions of mutants dead. Those who survived soon lost their minds, and the stories that surfaced were too tragic to imagine. But no… There's a sadder memory here… I remembered going to the hospital morgue after Momma was killed. I didn't believe Johnny and the doctors. I knew my mother was waiting for me at home and they had the wrong woman. When I found the silver wall lined with boxes of dead bodies, I knew I had crossed over into hell. I remembered the afternoon that Mr. Summers pulled me out of class early, and I saw Momma in the office with Bishop. She looked at me with such sad eyes that I just couldn't take another step. I'd crossed over into hell once, and I would never go there again. I wouldn't let her tell me that my father was dead.

The universe is a dark and empty place. In space, there is no sound or friction. There is only power…. The power of black holes devouring everything in their paths; the power of supernovas destroying star systems; and the power of gravity pulling planets and stars. Suddenly, all that raw power funneled itself through me, and erupted most gloriously. Blue energy leapt away from me, striking at my teammates and opponents indiscriminately. The neon bolts gravitated towards the two Stepford Cuckoos and fried away their white-blond body hair.

_That_ would teach them to fuck with my head!

"Where the hell _where_ you?" I shouted at Nate.

During my spell, Specter had pinched both our remaining dummies and was en route with them.

With the telepaths on their knees, my teammates charged the other side of the field. Tess leapt on Sophie like a cheetah and threw a fist in her face continuously. When Phoebe ran to her rescue, Ethan turned the solid dirt to quicksand. Her white, skin-tight uniform faded into muddy oblivion. Apparently, my comrade decided she wasn't frightened enough, and the mud bubbled with heat. Her cries went unanswered. Specter's shadow-form slithered over the ground towards the Corsairs-side of the field with our manikins.

"I don't think so!" Nate caught him in a dark, condensed ball and then sealed it inside a dummy hostage.

Uri and Max were sparing, but the Hunter was going for blood, and the Corsairs only wanted to rescue his teammates. The fun had worn off for him, and Max was screaming at the instructors to end the game. Every time he thought he had an opening and tried to get away, Uri leapt at him, swinging punches or kicks. Twice he spit his poisonous mucus, and Max barely dodged the ammo.

"They've found a way around the uniforms!" Ms. Pryde shouted to someone off the field.

Before the game, Tess had said she would try to prevent our uniforms from crippling us… I guess she found a way.

"Grab the hostages and get back to base!" Nate shouted at us.

We moved in formation, abandoning our respective battles for the unguarded dummies. I turned immediately for our base, and along the way, pulled Tess from Sophie. At the time, Tess was far more important to me than the dummies. Her poor white knuckles were pink and red from beating our opponent, and I kissed them after we stopped running. When the sisters hijacked my mind, they had conquered my team as well. They'd made us re-live our worst memories. I could not bear to think of my beloved suffering. If she hadn't scrapped them, _I_ would have.

My boys each grabbed a doll with Nate and Uri taking one for each arm. Ethan returned to base in time, but Ms. Pryde somehow overrode Tess's override on the uniforms. Tess, Ethan and I were in the base proximity, and therefore our uniforms weren't affected. We watched with dread as Uri and Nate were frozen in place.

I looked at the clock over the stadium and saw we still had two minutes, but time was quickly slipping away. I suppose Max had already given up. With time still left, he chose instead to dig Phoebe out of her mud hole. The medical staff had removed Sophie, but determined her sister still fit to compete. Surely, we were victorious, but rules were rules… And _technically_, the Corsairs still had the most hostages. They _couldn't_ win on a technicality! Not after everything we'd done!

"I can't move the ground!" Ethan panicked. "They've cut off our powers!"

"_Why_?" I roared. "The clock's still going!"

Six eyes turned and confirmed my statement. We had less than ninety seconds to retrieve our teammates.

"Help me undress," I told them, grabbing the zipper behind my neck.

"What?" Ethan hissed with wide, pale eyes.

"If I leave the perimeter, my uniform will cripple me. I can take it off… There's no rule about having to keep your uniform on! I can retrieve the hostages, but we've gotta hurry."

They complied with red faces, and I heard more than a few reactions from the stands. Wearing a tank top, short-shorts and knee-high socks, I ran back into the battle. Red plasma blasts shot past my head and legs, and one clipped my heel. Limping, I approached Nate first because he was the farthest away. Even though he couldn't move, I could move him, and I pulled him onto my back. I had really underestimated how _heavy_ he was! With all my might forcing my legs to carry him, I felt like a work horse. Ten unforgiving steps and thirty seconds later, I approached Uri. There was no time to come back for him, so I yanked his collar and carried them both. I've heard an ant can lift ten times its own body weight… I can't say if that's true, but if it is, I can tell you how that ant _feels_. The final five seconds on the clock were counted off by the spectators, and for one horrible moment, I thought I wouldn't make it. I thought all our sacrifices and agony and humiliation would be for _naught_. My thighs and back burned as I forced myself to sprint the last bit. It was like running in knee-deep snow and time moved unnaturally fast, but somehow, I still won. I collapsed to the ground while the crowd went crazy. My team tried to make me stand again, but my muscles had turned to Jell-O. Since I had carried them through the toughest ordeal, they lifted me onto their shoulders and carried me through the best.

We were so elated… positively giddy with pride.

Later that night, when we were declared the _defeated_ squad, our jubilation was momentarily stolen. They said we'd cheated, and an _unfair_ victory was no victory at all. So they took away our trophy, but they could never take away our success.

"Hey," Logan told us at our victory party, "I don't know what _they_ saw, but I saw you kids kickin' ass an' takin' names. Where I come from, we call that winnin'."

…

Deep inside the heart of Manhattan, there's a corporate office that resembles many others. The building is clean and modern, with glass walls, marble floors and steel rails. Not one inch of floor provides the soft padding of carpet, which might serve to calm the trespasser. Heels click relentlessly – up the stairs, out the door, down the hall, and into the elevator. And if the sound of crisp, sharp shoes doesn't give away the guest's position, all the walls are polished to shine like a mirror.

Into this cold, heartless environment, Tess and I would sell our child. We were dressed in business suits – she wore black and I wore red, and our hair was professionally styled. When we entered the building, she kept her blue eyes downcast and walked with purpose. Like so many others here, she pretended not to be impressed or intimidated by the architecture.

Dr. McCoy accompanied us. He had a vested interest in the direction our company would take. He was also the only person over eighteen that I could trust with my future. My enormous blue science teacher dressed in a black suit with a red silk tie. The outfit fit him so snugly that I wondered at the talent of his tailor. His hair was slicked back, and he wore his glasses on the bridge of his lion-like nose.

The three of us found our meeting room on their fifteenth floor. Dr. McCoy got some strange looks in the elevator, but no one harassed us. The room itself had glass walls and an elongated table made of cheap wood and uncomfortable plastic chairs. Oh, the furniture _looked_ nice, but it wasn't very pleasant on the flesh.

"Ms. LeBeau?" a quick-paced man in a tight suit approached me. "My name is Daniel Clearwater. This is my assistant, Ginger Turner. Our accountant, Donald Pierce. And this is the liaison provided by the Great Lakes firm, Jamal Ali. You must be Ms. McNeil. Dr. McCoy," he nodded at my teacher. "Shall we get started?"

The four representatives quickly took their seats and pulled out binders and booklets.

"Just a moment," Tess said. "Where is Mr. Shaw?"

"I speak for the Hellfire Club," Daniel Clearwater told her, and turned back to his paper work.

Tess and I exchanged looks, neither of us moving towards our seats.

"We were told we would be speaking with Mr. Shaw," I said.

Daniel Clearwater sighed and said wearily, "Don't worry about Mr. Shaw declining our progress here today. I represent the interest of the _entire_ association. If you like, you can meet him at a later date. Before the sale is final, of course, but he's a busy man. He can't possibly make _all_ of his meetings; that's my job."

Dr. McCoy's nostrils flailed.

"Well, good day, gentlemen," I nodded and turned towards the door.

_That_ got their attention.

Daniel Clearwater leapt to his feet. "Just a moment! What seems to be the problem? I don't know what you young ladies have been told, but Sebastian Shaw is _not_ the entire club. He is, however, a very important man who will agree with whatever terms I compile today."

"We want _Shaw_," I said, opening the door and exiting. Without another word, Tess and Dr. McCoy followed me into the elevator.

Once the steel doors shut and we were alone, Dr. McCoy said: "Nicely done, ladies."

.::.

I didn't think Papa would ever stop bragging about my performance. He thought I was the coolest kid ever – dragging two men across the finish line in my underwear.

Ollie was just as impressed. He even did a little re-enactment with a teddy bear on his back and an alligator in his hand. He slowly forced one foot in front of the other, grunting with imaginary strain, and eventually screamed and fell to the floor, throwing the stuffed animals away from him. We laughed at him, and Rogue picked him up and cheered. He pumped his little fists in the air victoriously… I don't recall doing that.

It was the Sunday after the big game, and all my friends had come for dinner. Excitement was bubbling over from the entire house, but there was a sad undercurrent. In two weeks, Nate was leaving for Alaska; and in September, Ethan would start college. I had come to regard them as pieces of myself, and my heart was breaking to know they were leaving me. I just _knew_ I'd never see them again. I took one last, long look at all of us together. Hero was sleeping peacefully on Momma's chest; Papa snuck a kiss on Rogue's jaw as he cleared away the dishes; the twins were resisting Lena's bath time; my boys were discussing their prom dates; and as usual, my girl had slipped a hand into mine. I thought about Renegade. Did he know he was missing the best days of his life?

Ethan had just finished telling us that he was taking Angie Hart to prom when Rogue interjected: "Ain't she kinda a' tart? That girl's had _six_ boyfriends in _five_ weeks."

"Well, she's brand new to me!" He smiled and we all groaned.

"Just go stag, man," Nate said. "That's what I'm doing." He stood and carried his glass into the kitchen.

"I'd really like to take Honor," Ethan smiled sarcastically at me. "But she shot me down."

My face burned. Try as I might, I couldn't cool off, and I was attracting attention to myself. Ten eyes peered directly into my very soul, reading the truth on my face.

"What happened?" Momma snapped.

"Excuse me," I said, practically running from the table. My knee bumped the wooden leg as I fled, and all the dishes rattled. I ran into the kitchen, where Nate and Papa had obviously been having a private conversation. They stopped talking immediately and gave me an impatient look. They'd been discussing me, and wanted me to leave again. I wasn't about to return to the dining room!

"What's going on?" I asked them.

Half a heartbeat later, Momma stormed into the kitchen and asked me: "What de hell was dat?"

"Belle, dis don't concern you," said Papa.

"Go for a walk, LeBeau!" she snapped. Then, to me: "I want answers. What was dat _about_?"

I was so embarrassed. My friends were still sitting at the table, undoubtedly hearing every word we said. I couldn't bring myself to lie to my own mother, so I covered my face instead. She pulled my hands away and forced me to look her in the eye as if I were a child. I could feel myself cowering under her stare. Her fingers gripped my chin like a vice, holding my entire body hostage.

"Belle, what happen?" Papa asked, his voice unsteady.

"I don't know, cher. I can tell you dat Ethan said somet'ing _insanely_ inappropriate, and dis one gets all embarrassed. Lookin' guilty and ashamed." Her pale violet eyes never wavered from mine. "Did he hurt you, _catin_?"

I shook so violently that my teeth rattled, and for a moment, I was seriously concerned for my underwear.

My father pulled something from his pocket and he stormed into the dining room. I heard him very calmly ask Lena to take the little ones upstairs, but the room responded in a panic. I even heard Rogue shout: "Remy, no!" And then Ethan's footfalls pounded out across the floor to the front door. There was a commotion in the house as Lena herded my little brother and sisters upstairs and my friends gathered their things and left without saying good-bye. I, however, could not move from my spot in the kitchen. My feet and knees were as solid as a tree trunk. I saw my family moving around me like stars across the sky, although I kept my blood and black eyes down. Then things settled into an eerie silence.

Nate gently grabbed my shoulders. "Honey… Let's go sit in the living room."

I moved towards my own death. My electric chair wasn't made of steel and wood like the ones in the movies. It was the same soft recliner that Rogue used many times to rock her children to sleep. As I took my seat at the very edge of the chair, I folded my hands and clenched my thighs together. Any moment now, Momma would smack me across the face like a lightning bolt.

"'On," Nate said, "I've got to tell you something that you're not going to like…"

I studied his knees as he spoke. He wore khaki cargo pants and sat directly across from me with his fingers laced. Behind him, I could see my parents, but I didn't dare look them in the eye.

"It's about Tess," he continued.

I looked him in the eye – stunned.

"She's a low-level empathy, honey. It's how she helps boost dormant mutant powers. Well… unlike many other mutants, who are immune to their own powers, she can improve her own abilities. She's been a telepath for quite a while now. She just didn't want to tell anyone." He took a deep, shaky breath before finishing. "And the reason she didn't want to tell anyone is because she's been manipulating people. Mostly… you."

The world could've imploded, and I wouldn't have noticed. _Someone_ was being fooled here, but it wasn't me! My eyes glanced to my parents, but they weren't laughing. Shutting my eyes again, I shook my head.

"I've been in your head before," he said evenly. "I know how it works. How it _looks_. In Alaska, when I kept us all linked together, I noticed something had changed. It had definitely been tampered with, and by someone who knew you. When I… _confronted_ Tess about it, she didn't deny it. I told her to tell you or **I** would."

"How do you know it was _her_?" I lashed out. "It could've been Frost or the Stepfords-"

He shook his head. "I didn't want to believe it, either. But Emma would've covered her tracks better, and the Stepford Cuckoos would've made you _do_ something. Honestly, I think the other telepaths are too frightened of you to try anything… But _someone's_ been in there: a gentle push here, a little persuasion there. Just enough to make you do and say and forget what they want. Frankly, it reeks of a jealous woman."

"I don't believe you," I told him. And I meant it.

"There's more that she's been keeping from you. Did you know she's getting emancipated? After her sixteenth birthday, she'll no longer be a ward of the state. And she's taken enough classes to graduate, which means… She's not coming back to school next year. Did she tell you that?"

I couldn't breathe. This was a nightmare – nothing more.

"And that _company_ she wants to sell Freaks to?" He said, "She's been in communication with Sebastian Shaw for _weeks_ now. They've probably already reached an agreement. 'On, I'm so sorry to have to tell you all this…"

"You're _lying_," I insisted.

"That night your dad left for Wakanda, and someone broke into your house… _That_ was the Hellfire Club. They asked Tess for inside information, and they were verifying her truthfulness. She sold you out. She sold your whole family. You're _lucky_ Shaw wasn't after anything."

"Why would they bother with _us_?" Rogue asked.

Nate turned around to address her, but I heard him clearly. "I think she's been providing him with inside information all along… About the X-Men, the school, Mutant Freaks… And he's probably been relying on that source without any way of knowing how accurate she is. So he asked her to give him something she didn't want to give, something he could verify. She entrusted him with Honor's life."

"And I blamed Renegade…" I said softly.

I could never tell them that I wished _he_ had betrayed us. I had _trusted_ this girl and _loved_ her like no one else in my life. And she'd been _using_ me from the start. Who was she? She'd _made_ me trust her; made me _think_ I loved her. I didn't really know her at all. Maybe I'd really been in love with Ethan, and she'd simply re-directed all my affection towards her. When she wasn't around, he always caught my attention. And if I _really_ loved her the way I _thought_ I did, how could I have cheated on her? How could she lie to me? Sell me out? If _she_ really loved _me_?

"So I'm confused," Momma said. "Where's Ethan come in t' play?"

"_Ethan_?" Nate looked at me. "I don't know."

I was still very small and tightly wound. "The night of Henri's memorial, I called Tess, but she didn't have the time for me. So I asked Ethan to come over instead. He's been after me ever since, but I asked him not to tell anyone… We had sex."

…

My parents had _never_ been so angry with me. Whenever they needed to relay an order to me (and that was all I heard from them), the comment came through Rogue. I felt isolated and lost, and in spite of what they were feeling, I _needed_ them. Finally, I confronted my father.

"How much longer are you gonna give me the silent treatment?" I asked the back of his head on the way to school.

He gripped the steering wheel. "You don't want me t' talk t' you," he said bitterly. "I can't even _look_ at you right now."

My friends were all waiting for me at our usual meeting place before classes. I hadn't spoken to them since Nate's confessional, so I didn't know what they knew. I could've taken a detour and delayed our confrontation, but I was sick of being ignored. I met them head-on.

"Pochica!" Uri cried. "Thank god you're alive! I had no _idea_ your folks would be so pissed that you refused to go to prom with Ethan."

It was a joke, poor thing, but this was no time.

"Uri, would you – actually, never mind," I said. "You'd better _all_ stay for this. That way, there's less of a chance of us 'forgetting' what I'm about to say. Tess is a telepath," I looked directly at her, "And she's been screwing with my head. She's probably been screwing with everyone's minds, so be careful what you say and think around her."

Tess's white cheeks flushed. When everyone looked at her, she said: "Yes, it's true. But you didn't have to _out_ me like that."

"You've been screwing with our _minds_?" Ethan hissed at her. "Who do you think you are?"

Ethan was positioning his body towards Tess like he was preparing to attack her. Nate intercepted them and snapped: "Don't you _dare_ speak to her like that! You're just as bad! You've been screwing around with _worse_ than minds!"

Tess's eyes darted to me.

"Hey, man," Ethan shrugged carelessly, "At least she _wanted_ me to do it."

There was a loud popping sound as Nate's fist collided with Ethan's jaw. Their bodies melded together in a flurry of kicks, punches and head-butts. A crowd quickly gathered around them, but Uri pulled Ethan away and scolded everyone.

"What the hell happened? This _use_ to be the no-drama squad! Everyone here wants to kill each other, go ahead! I'm _out_!" My reptilian friend left, but there was no time to stop him.

"I can't _believe_ you'd tell him that!" Nate yelled at me. "Jesus Christ, Honor! I didn't even tell _Melody_ about that shit you put me through!"

I actually gasped. I was so shocked by his unforgiving anger. For as long as I'd known him, he'd been the most selfless, compassionate person in my life.

He rounded on Ethan and grabbed his shirt. "You tell _anyone_, and I will run a knife into your throat!"

I looked behind me, expecting Tess to be gone or ready to kick Ethan's ass. She was still standing there, with rage bubbling behind her clear blue eyes. Her painted-black finger nails were all hidden except for the thumbs, and her knuckles were whiter than snow. She _could've_ taken him. But I saw something else in her that I had not expected… She was crying.

Ethan busted out laughing at her.

"Shut up!" I shouted at him. I wanted to punch him! I went to Tess, and she let me hold her. Her arms never relaxed or returned my embrace, but after a few seconds, I heard Ethan leave. As always, it came down to her and me.

"You think _everyone_ forgives you if you just hug them?" she asked, her voice broken and weak.

"Tessy…" I pulled away. "You're not even going to apologize? You _used_ me! And when Nate confronted you with it, you didn't even have the guts to come clean!"

"It was _nothing_!" She shoved me away. "I made you not care about a fight, or less anxious about sex. That's _all_. I never made you _do_ anything!"

"For God's sake, I was in a _mental_ _institution_!" I shouted, not caring that I was in a large room full of people. "I was abducted and brainwashed, and for **months**, I had _everyone_ trying to control what I felt and thought and did! And if I miss my lithium pill one day, I'll go right back! Do you really think I _want_ to be controlled? Being in charge of myself is the most important thing I _have_! Maybe my feelings weren't always easy for you to deal with, but they were _mine_ and you _stole_ them!"

"I don't think I stole enough of them, since you were _screwing_ around on me the whole time! I guess the apple really _doesn't_ fall far from the tree."

I should've beaten the crap out of her. The spectators were expecting me to lunge at her, grab a handful of hair and make her eat her words. I considered it. There's a time for _words_ and a time for _action_. When you no longer have the desire for either, it's time to walk away.

.::.

I've had some crummy Mondays, but this one took the prize. A few skeletons fell out of the closet, and suddenly I had no one to help me clean them up. Worst of it was: everyone knew. When people saw Hunter silent and divided, they questioned and answered and created new truths.

Nate and I were still _sort_ _of_ friends, and Uri bounced between Tess and me, trying to encourage reconciliation.

"Remember when I said 'I hope you and Tess never break up'? _This_ is why!" Uri told me. After that, I didn't see him without her.

As for Ethan, he'd been expelled for fighting. He was already on probation after that scrap with me, and our time-traveling adventure didn't help his case. The fight with Nate was the final straw. He was told to pack his things; he wouldn't be walking across the graduation stage with his classmates. My heart broke for him. I couldn't believe Mr. Summers and Ms. Frost would do that to him! He was so close… and to take it away at the last minute was so unfair! He tried to sneak away without saying good-bye, but of course I knew about it and waited by his Thunderbird. A grim smile gripped his face when he saw me. All his possessions were packed in a single cardboard box tucked under his arm. "Aren't you going to get in trouble for skipping art history?"

"Were you _really_ going to leave without saying good-bye?"

He stood at least three feet away and kicked the ground. "Hey, leaving this place is no skin off my nose. You're the only one here I'm gonna miss, anyway. And I'm pretty sure I'm not supposed to come within 500 yards of you, so…"

"I really screwed everything up, didn't I?" I resisted the urge to hug him, and struggled to find the words to comfort him. "Where will you go?"

He shrugged and avoided my eyes. I backed away from his car while he threw his box and backpack in the trunk. He opened the driver's door and paused with one foot outside the vehicle. Finally, he raised his bright purple eyes to look at me.

"I remember the first day I saw you," he told me. "I knew you were something. I'm sorry things worked out this way."

Then his crappy old car drove away, shattering my world.

…

I didn't see or speak to anyone for the rest of the day. When four o'clock rolled around, I was waiting by the car for my father and Rogue. We got into the car and rode in silence. One big, happy family. During the hour ride home, I kept my forehead pressed against my window. Before long, the dense glass fogged over. My wet nose rubbed clear tracks in the condensation every time we stopped at a light or stop sign. I tried to limit my snuffles to the loudest parts of the songs, but eventually I gave up on that. If _they_ didn't care that I was crying, then _I_ didn't care if they knew.

Rogue put a hand over my knee.

"Ah heard about Ethan leavin'," she turned around and spoke to me. "Is that what's got you all worked up?"

"Wow," I said sharply, "They must be really pissed at me if _you're_ playing the good cop. Papa almost _always_ nabs that role."

"Ah ain't playin'," she said softly. "Now what's the matter, sugah? You can talk to me. Ah ain't gonna tell you that you shouldn't be feelin' whatever you're feelin'."

My eyes watered over again. "I'm sorry, Rogue. I'm just so _mad_ right now. I shouldn't've taken it out on you. I just-"

When my voice broke, she gripped my hand and waited patiently for me to continue.

"She didn't even _apologize_," I finally said.

Rogue nodded slowly with perfect understanding. Her green eyes shone brightly with unshed tears, but I think she was only upset because I was crying.

"What about Ethan?" Papa asked.

"What _about_ him?" I snapped back. "Why should I apologize for sleeping with him? She was never there when I needed her. _Never_. He was my friend, and maybe… maybe I _shouldn't've_ done it 'cause I didn't love him, but I'm _not_ sorry for it! Really, I don't even think she _cares_!"

"Of course she cares," said Rogue. "Like you… She did some things she shouldn't've, but that doesn't mean she never _cared_."

"And now… And now Ethan thinks he _loves_ me!" I exploded. "And Tess thinks she _doesn't_! And Nate thinks I'm just a _stupid_ _little_ _girl_, who needs someone _big_ to look after her! And Uri thinks I'm a _selfish little slut!_ And _I_ wish everyone would just leave me alone! It's _my_ mind and _my_ body! What I'm going to do with it is _my_ business!"

"Listen t' yourself!" Papa snapped. "You t'ink you can do whatever you want, and don't nobody get hurt?"

Rogue stroked my hand and continued as if she hadn't heard him. "Ah understand exactly where you comin' from, sugah. When Ah couldn't control my powers, everyone _swore_ they could help me. And when they couldn't, they put the blame back on me. All I wanted was to be normal and have the kinda life everyone else has, but Ah was called a 'traitor' for wantin' to give up my powers. Truth of the matter is… Even though it was _my_ body, Ah hurt a lot of people with the things Ah did." She glanced at my father and added: "Or _didn't_ do."

"I didn't mean for anyone to get hurt," I sighed. "Now everything's so screwed up!"

"Screwin' up's part of growin' up," she said.

We pulled into the driveway and Papa parked the car, but nobody moved.

Finally, I said in a quiet voice: "What if she never speaks to me again?"

"Dat _all_ you care about?" Papa asked. He waited a moment, and then left, slamming the door after him.

I jumped after him. "At least she _talks_ to me!" I yelled across the yard. "I don't know what _you_ want from me! You don't _tell_ me anything. You never have! Now you wanna be all pissy because I'm not the daughter you want – _fine!_ Be that way!"

He stood and listened to me, but after I was finished, he went inside without a word.

I screamed and stomped my feet.

"Yeah, sorry…" Rogue told me on her way inside. "When he's mad, that's all you'll get from him."

.::.

Three days before graduation, Tess and I finally met with Mr. Shaw. He was kind enough to invite us to his house in the Hamptons, and even provided a lift on his private jet. I couldn't help but think he was _trying_ to impress us, which turned me off. After all the opulence of leather interiors, servants in suits, limousines, private jets, and a vacation house larger than my school… I found the owner far superior to any of these items. He was a middle-aged man with long, dark hair that was pulled back, and a strong, militant face. I found the way he dressed slightly bizarre… If I thought Jean-Luc was old-fashioned, then Mr. Shaw was _pre_-_historic_! He wore a three-piece suit in bright, contrasting colors like the Founding Fathers, and walked with a cane although he clearly didn't require it. With enough money, I suppose you can be as silly as you please!

Mr. Shaw wasn't a kind man. More than once, he was very cruel to his help, but he was always considerate to Tess and me. In a previous life, he probably burned many young girls as witches, but _we_ had something he wanted.

"Thank you for your time," Tess told him.

We both dressed nicely, but I noticed her outfit was much more provocative than usual. Her pants were too tight; her cleavage, too loose and low. When she spoke to him, her eyes lit up slightly. No one would probably even notice except me. She _used_ to look at me like that. Since our spat earlier in the week, we only communicated over Mutant Freaks. Now that we were selling our union, I didn't expect she'd _ever_ look at me again.

"Thank you for considering my proposition," Mr. Shaw sneered.

The three of us took our seats in the parlor and drank hot tea while we conversed.

"Mr. Shaw," I started, "We wanted to meet with you in person because we have a very personal question to ask. We know you once financed the Sentinel program, which in turn slaughtered the mutants on Genosha. Why should we trust you with this collection of mutant names? How do we know you won't destroy these people?"

He and Tess exchanged a look, giving me the impression that my very presence was a rouse. They had already worked out the terms of their agreement. Tess had already asked him everything she felt was important, and he was sure my opinion didn't matter. This was just a show to convince me to join their cause. Should I fain ignorance? Agree to their suggestions, take my share, and leave with my head held high? Or should I confront them? Demand to be taken seriously, take my baby home, and leave with my head forever looking over my shoulder?

"I was told the Sentinels were meant to police mutants," Mr. Shaw told me as he might tell a reporter. "Of course, I _don't_ support genocide. I realize that _homo superior_ is the next step in evolution, and the Hellfire Club is devoted to incorporating mutants into our projects. If one doesn't adapt, one will not survive." He pulled out a cigar, offering one to Tess and me. We declined, and he lit the fat, brown roll. As smoke billowed around his face, he continued to speak at me. "For some time now, the Club has considered establishing an on-line gathering, but our ideas were too broad. What you and Tessa have created is exactly what we're interested in. The Club isn't looking to change what you've created. Our goal is merely to expand Mutant Freaks, which is of course, your ultimate goal as well. We just have the resources to accomplish this sooner. Now, if you're interested, I'd like to discuss our options."

I nodded.

"One option is to sell 90 percent of-"

"_We could accomplish great things together, Sebastian," Emma Frost said. She was wearing a white bath robe and gently smoothed the lapels of his jacket. The two of them were alone in an extravagant hotel room. Cocaine lines waited on the glass coffee table, and empty liquor glasses sat beside an unmade bed._

"-you could still be an active member on the board, with-"

Tess was watching me. She knew I was having a vision, although I'd shown no symptoms. I closed my eyes and drank my tea, pretending to be very focused on what Mr. Shaw said.

_Sebastian Shaw smiled kindly at Emma and tucked a lock of white blond hair behind her ear. Suddenly, something changed. His face contorted, and he gripped a fist full of her hair._

"_Stay out of my head, bitch!" He roared and smashed her head into the coffee table. It shattered, and blood ruined the cocaine in the carpet._

"The amount is still up for negotiation. If you're interested in long-term investment, stock is your best option-"

_The dinner party had a sort of hushed, anxious atmosphere. Five men, who were dressed similarly to Mr. Shaw, waited at the base of a grand staircase. On the arm of the Black King was Emma Frost, who wore next to nothing. They all appeared to be waiting for something spectacular and lethal…_

_And there she was. _

_Jean Grey. _

_The Black Queen._

_She also wore next to nothing, but there was something… __**dead**__ in her eyes. The Omega level mutant who never hesitated to kill billions of life forms was now enslaved to the Hellfire Club. She moved like a swan possessed. When she took the vacant arm of Sebastian Shaw, there was a determination in her. She would __**kill**__ the X-Men._

"Miss LeBeau? Do you need something?"

I opened my eyes and found that Mr. Shaw had stopped talking. A moment later, Tess was at my side. This was unlike her, and I knew she was only _pretending_ to care.

"I'm sorry," Tess told our host, "She gets like this sometimes…"

I noticed panic in her monotone voice. She was worried that my vision revealed her involvement with Shaw. No, I already knew about that… What I still didn't understand was why she didn't tell me everything behind this 'Club'. Maybe _she_ still didn't know. But she was right. The Hellfire Club was the _perfect_ match for our needs.

"Do you need me to get you anything?" she asked me.

"_I_ don't need _you_ to do _anything_," I hissed.

Mr. Shaw smiled to himself and took a puff from his cigar. "If you'd like some time to consider my offer," he said, "I can have Hector show you the grounds. Perhaps the two of you could get some fresh air and talk things over. The offer will stand until midnight on Friday."

"Mr. Shaw, has Tess told you why we're interested in selling to you?" I asked bluntly.

"Yes," he smiled boldly, revealing long, fang-like teeth. "Yes, I believe we can help each other."

"How would you go about doing it?"

He shrugged. "What's very difficult for you is very easy for the Hellfire Club."

"How _soon_ could you do it?"

"You won't have to worry about his syllabus next semester."

"I don't know what she's told you… _Obviously_… But Nate's a very dear friend of mine. If you can't do it without hurting him, I don't want you to do it at all."

"My dear girl, once the Club is committed to something, we're committed. I can't begin a game only to quit when the stakes are too high for my patron. If I am handed a task, I will see it through. However, I will promise not to take _direct_ aim at your friend. As long as he doesn't get _himself_ involved, I won't either."

.

_To Be Continued…_

.


	3. Life's Too Short For All That

**Disclaimer: **I do not own.

**Author's Notes: **A lot of teen angst here. Hey, we all go through it. Thanks for reading and please leave a review!

**The Ballad of Honor and Tess**

**Life's Too Short For All That**

Eight point five million dollars never felt so worthless.

I had expected the taste of victory to quench my thirst for vengeance. Instead, it fell flat. My mouth felt dry as sand, and my heart was as empty as smoke. So I had succeeded, but who did I have to celebrate with? No one. I had sacrificed them all. Sitting in Mr. Shaw's private jet, I watched night clouds pass calmly beneath my window. Tess sat across the aisle, looking decidedly away from me and keeping silent. If I did not make my peace now, I might never get the chance again.

"I only slept with him once," I said to the void.

The engines hummed. The plane turned slightly. Below us, the city lights became less condensed. I waited for a reply, and when nothing came, I felt like a fool. She wouldn't apologize because she didn't think she'd done anything wrong. In her mind, all the blame was mine, and she was shutting me out.

"I wish you'd told me you were graduating," I pressed on. "Do you know how hard I worked to get promoted? _Just_ so we could spend more time together! And you turn around and leave the school! Where will you go? When were you gonna tell me? Or were you just going to _disappear_ over the summer? Did… Did you _ever_ put me in your plans?"

She looked at me with cold, unflinching eyes.

"I would've given up everything for you," I confessed. "The Guild… My _parents_… An eternity in heaven… If I had to give up those things for you, I _would_. And you… you _exploited_ that. You were going to _abandon_ me. And _now_, you don't even have the _courage_ to acknowledge it!" My head shook with disgust, and I turned away from her.

Like the dying song of a nightingale, she softly said: "I had no idea you felt that way."

For a moment, I had hope.

"But it doesn't change anything," she continued. "Maybe I should've told you about my plans, but it would've only upset you. If you want to know, Mr. Shaw's offered me a job in the city, and I'm taking it."

"Are you sleeping with him?" I seethed.

"Having experienced what I have… I can honestly say that _despite_ your opinion, you'd really prefer that I _not_ answer."

My heart literally skipped a beat. Since she wouldn't answer, I used my power to pry, and discovered something much worse in the process. She'd never been completely honest with me about her life in Afghanistan. She'd once had parents and brothers, that much was true. And things had been going well until the war moved into their area. But her parents never sent her to an orphanage. When it became too dangerous to stay in their city, her family tried moving with the refugees, but on the way, the caravan was attacked and everyone was killed. Tess only survived because she fought back, and Xavier eventually she ended up in the cave where she met Xavier… But she'd _manipulated_ Xavier into bringing her to New York. She'd manipulated her way into my family, and she used the same game on Shaw and his company.

"You had this planned all along…" I said aloud. "The Hellfire Club, Shaw, infiltrating the X-Men – it was all part of your scheme. I thought you loved us, but you only loved our power. And now that a bigger fish has come along, you're jumping ship. Who _are_ you?"

"Honey, please," she said. "Don't be so dramatic."

"Was I just another pawn? Or something fun to help pass the time? _Tessa!_ Talk to me!"

"Whatever purpose you served is no longer needed!" She almost shouted. "We've got high school behind us, and Freaks is gone! We have _nothing_ in common anymore! Jesus Christ, Honor Julien! I'd let you go on until you felt better, but you _never_ stop, do you? _I don't want you anymore!_"

"Why? Because of Ethan and Shaw? Tess, they're nothing compared to us!"

"No, _Honor_, it's because of _you_. I. Don't. Want. You."

…

After we landed, I was relieved to learn that Tess would be leaving in a separate vehicle and staying at a hotel nearby. When the driver verified that he was delivering me to my house in Poughkeepsie, I asked him to take me to school instead.

…

Tante Ro was waiting for me at the gate. I knew I was reaching for straws, but I literally had nowhere else to go. After a day like I'd had, I didn't have the strength to face my parents. I thought sadly that Mr. Wagner would've been the _best_ person to talk to. I could tell him all my secrets, and he would hold them without resentment or shame. My Tante loved me, but she loved the X-Men, too. If it came down to a choice, she would choose the _right_ side, not the one she loved the most. If she knew all my secrets, would she turn away from me, too? She stood like a ghost in the night, wearing a white, hooded robe and slippers. After a graceful smile and firm hug, she led me to her room in the attic. Her room was exactly as I imagined it would be. The walls and floor were bare wood, and the furniture made of bamboo. Her bed was covered in immaculate white sheets, tucked firmly at the creases. Most of the available space was filled with indoor plants, but I did see a few pictures: Ms. Grey; a very old group picture of Mr. Summers, Ms. Grey, Dr. McCoy and Professor Xavier; and a few others of people I didn't know.

Tante Ro made me a cup of hot tea and let me lay in her bed. Her pillow smelled like lavender.

"If you like, you may stay here tonight," she told me. She sat on the edge of the bed and stroked my hair. She always knew how to make me feel better.

"Tante Ro, can I tell you something?"

"Of course, child."

"I cheated on Tess with Ethan. Now they've both left, and my parents won't speak to me. They've never been so mad at me. I don't have anyone…"

"You have me."

I smiled bravely at her.

"When were you intimate with Ethan?"

"The night of Henri's memorial," I said distractedly. My body was suddenly heavy and I wanted to rest.

"And since then, have you continued to have your menstrual cycle regularly?"

I couldn't help but laugh; my parents never asked. I told her that I wasn't pregnant.

"Have you been using the toilet more often? Are you ever in any pain?"

At the time, I didn't understand that she was alluding to sexually transmitted diseases, but I was worried. I hadn't considered a consequence worse than pregnancy, and even that concern was brief.

"Well…" I said, "It didn't hurt afterward as much as… the first time. But it burned the first time I peed."

"That is not uncommon. Most likely, your vagina was only raw, and that will continue to occur during the first few weeks of sexual activity. If you intend to remain active, you should speak with your parents about starting a contraceptive drug. But if… They refuse or you feel compelled not to, I will show you how to use a condom."

I blushed profusely.

"I remember my first sexual encounter," she smiled at me. "A part of me wanted to keep it secret forever, yet another part wanted to tell the world. I remember very vividly how it feels to want many different things, and not know which ones to pursue… That is the dilemma of youth." She stroked my hair and asked: "Was he kind to you?"

"Yes," I said quietly. After a moment's hesitation, I added: "I don't regret it, but… I don't know why I did it. And it wasn't worth loosing Tess."

"You will understand… In time."

"She betrayed me, too. I couldn't see it, but she was manipulating me. She admitted it, but then she wouldn't apologize for it. I think she'd do it again. All she ever wanted was to get close to power."

"I don't believe that. She proved many times that she loved you… She followed you after you joined Sinister and Apocalypse; she stayed with you when she thought you had contracted the Legacy Virus… And when she thought Bishop had killed you, she retaliated. She had nothing to gain in those times."

"She said…" My voice broke. "She didn't _want_ me."

Tante Ro was right. After everything we'd been through together… How could she walk out of my life as casually as she'd walked into it? I wish she'd just run a knife through my chest. It would have been less painful. Sorrow welled up in my heart, and I felt it sink into my stomach. Once there, it dissolved entirely. There was an intense pain in my chest that carried through my arms, and I briefly hoped for death. I sobbed and screamed into Tante Ro's pillow all night, and just like she promised, she never left.

.::.

_Someone_ leaked X-Force to the media. It was all over the television and radio, and vehicles were constantly outside the school, trying to get a story or picture. There was a lot of pressure by the media for people to do something crazy and violent. Like hungry dogs, they were begging for a juicy bone. But most people just want to live in peace, and only behave aggressively when provoked. Instead of the full-course meal the media was searching for, they had to make do with minor hate crimes. And they gobbled those stories up. Security for the school and upcoming graduation ceremony became a top priority. I don't know how the teachers dealt with it, since they were all undoubtedly conversing with lawyers. Too bad _Bishop_ wasn't around; he would've been a great asset. Luckily, I didn't have too much time to devote to the latest mess. I spent two days with my Tante, but the night before graduation, she drove me home. I dreaded confronting my parents, but I was ready for whatever came. Secretly, I made a suicide pact with myself if they should still reject me. Twisted as it was, it gave me the strength I needed to face them. The little ones were playing on the floor and ran to greet me. I gave Ollie and Becca both a big hug, and then went to Hero, who was crawling toward me with a big grin. She reached out her chubby, cappuccino arms and I picked her up. She didn't understand the concept of hugs just yet, but I held her close anyway. She smelled like warm cotton sheets.

"Lena, I t'ink it's time for bed," Momma said.

Obediently, our Russian nanny rounded up the kiddies, and I was left alone with my parents, Tante Ro and Rogue.

"This division has out-lived its right," Tante Ro said boldly. "We will settle this tonight or no one leaves this room."

My parents looked at her like wounded wolves, and for the first time it occurred to me that maybe they weren't speaking to me because they didn't know what to say.

"The true source of this strife is removed from Honor's life. So you will speak your peace, and she will make hers, and then you will never mention it again. I am _ashamed_ of your behavior, Remy. After all the comrades we've buried, for you to live as though you will never die is _reckless_. Is that how you want your children to remember you? As a spiteful and unforgiving man?"

"What am I suppose t' do, 'Ro?" He sulked with shame heavy in his voice. "My fourteen-year-old daughter's havin' sex. _Fourteen-years-old_."

"You and Momma were _twelve_!" I snapped.

I expected the anger to rise in him, but he remained depressed. "You just… seem so much _younger_ den we were."

"What _part_ of me is fourteen-years-old?" I asked him. "Not my _body_, not my _mind_, and certainly not my _soul_. Who's to say I'm only a child?"

"We do!" Momma snapped. Unlike Papa, she jumped to her feet and crossed the room to stare me down. "You're _our_ child. Dat boy could get int' a lotta trouble trespassin' where he's got no business, but we know _he_ ain't de problem. De problem is you."

"What're you saying?" My voice and body trembled.

"Ah think what she's _tryin'_ to say," Rogue interjected, "is that it was wrong for her, and it's wrong for you."

"Look," I said bravely, "I'm not seeing Ethan. I won't ever sleep with him again, so you've got that. You want me to take back what's already done? Well, I can't! And I _wouldn't_ even if I could! I'm sorry you found out about it, and I'm sorry you're mad about it. But… But I'm not sorry it happened."

"Chere," Momma said softly. I couldn't tell if she were trying to frighten me or trying not to cry. "You too young for dis. What you done, it gonna change you forever. Dis ain't for you."

"You mean it says something about me that you don't like."

"Don't take dat tone wit' your mother," said Papa.

"I won't stand here and be your whippin' boy!" I hollered at them. "You two _left_ me in New Orleans! I had a log _rammed_ through my chest! I was left to _die_! Now you expect me to act like a _child_? You expect me to _accept_ this sort of treatment? I am _not_ a child!"

"You t'ink spreadin' your legs makes you a _woman_?"

"_Belle_!"

Rogue made Momma sit back down – I think she was afraid we'd come to blows. Papa took my hand and made me sit on the sofa beside him.

"Chere, let's say what dis is really about. Ethan… he only happened 'cause of Nate."

Honestly, I had no reply for that.

"On de moon… he took away your control. You t'ink you're in control now, lettin' dese people come and go wit'out hurtin' you. Dey just usin' you, _catin_. Your momma and I been talkin', and we t'ink it was a mistake t' take you away from Muir Island."

Panic seized me. "I won't go back there! I _won't_!" The freezing halls, the endless needles, the unending questions and omnipresent eyes… I was there for two weeks, and it almost drove me insane. Luckily, Papa broke down before I did, and we left together. But this time, I had no doubt they'd be locking me away. "You can't make me! I will _blow_ that damn plane out of the _sky_ before I go back!"

His blood and black eyes were so weary, so sad… When he looked at me, he saw my corpse. The daughter he'd known and loved and hoped for was gone.

"What do you want from me, Papa? Do you want me to pretend like I'm somebody else? You're not easy to live with, either!" I looked at Momma. "And the same goes for you! Why am _I_ the only one who has to change?"

Momma crossed her arms. "'Cause we pay de bills."

"I'm sorry," I leaned over Papa to look at her, "_Who_ pays the bills?"

"_Non_." Papa made me look at him again. "It's 'cause we been down dis road, and it ain't for you. You deserve better den what we got 'cause you _are_ better den us."

Little needles pricked at my eyes and heart.

"Listen t' your seniors, _petite_," he said softly and gripped my hands. It wasn't an order; it was a plea.

And it worked.

…

The morning of graduation, Papa and Rogue left early to bid _adieu_ to their students personally. Momma and I would be leaving closer to the ceremony time, with the little ones staying at home with Lena. I wanted to look amazing, since it might be the last chance I had to see Tess. As usual, my hair was being difficult. Momma watched me from my door for a few minutes before coming inside to help. I'm not a child. Normally, I would've sent her away. But on that day, I gave her the brush. She started at the ends and worked her way up, holding the locks at the knots so she wouldn't pull my hair. When she was done, my red-blond hair had a smooth finish and gentle waves. Then she pulled my hair back into a French braid, singing softly while she worked.

'_Words like violence, break the silence;_

_Come crashin' in, into my little world._

_Painful to me, pierce right through me._

_Can't you understand, oh, my little girl?_

_All I ever wanted, all I ever needed, is here in my arms.'_

When I was a little girl, she did this every day. My hair had more red than blond back then, and I looked especially awkward with freckles. Didn't matter how silly I _looked_. When she would braid my hair into two plaits, I _felt_ like the prettiest little girl in the world because I looked like my Momma with her countless little golden braids.

She stopped working at the base of my neck, and wrapped a black tie around the braid, leaving my hair free from my shoulders to my waist. The shortest parts of my hair were around my face, and left out of the confinement. This was the fashionable way to wear a braid, and I'm glad she didn't make me look dated. I wouldn't have the heart to fix it.

She kissed her accomplishment.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

_Renegade_.

Momma and I exchanged surprised looks and went downstairs to answer the call. She didn't know until she saw him through the peep hole. She moved slower than I expected, but she opened the door. He stood in a pair of tattered black jeans and a grey t-shirt with holes along the hem, collar and sleeves. His dreadlocks looked filthy, and once more, he was need of some good home-cooked meals. In his hands, he held two black garbage bags filled with clothes. His face had been bruised, but was healing. The marks were almost invisible against his dark complexion.

"I'm home, Momma," he said.

From behind, I saw her tremble. She pulled him into her arms, and he dropped the bags to embrace her back.

"Don't you _ever_ do dat again," she sniffled.

"I'm sorry. I had somet'ings t' take care of…"

The little ones and I welcomed him back, and later that day, I told him who had _really_ broken in and why. I'd blamed _him_ for someone hacking our security system and invading our home. Not knowing who was really to blame, he'd put his life in danger to settle old scores. I'd accused _him_ when _he_ was prepared to give his life to protect us. And he was as shocked as the rest of us that Tess could turn coat.

"Bet you wish it 'ad been Renegade," he said.

I shook my head, and meant it more than ever. How could I have ever wanted to make up with her? She'd endangered my family and let us turn on each other to protect her own skin. I loved her dearly, but I couldn't trust her. Renegade made me realize I hadn't destroyed our relationship, and I wasn't going to fight for it.

.::.

Nate and Tess looked ridiculous in their graduation robes. Everyone did. But they smiled, anyway, and took a hundred pictures of themselves and each other. Their parents smiled, too. For a day, their child was a rock-star, and they wouldn't let something like a pending investigation into acts of terrorism and homicides ruin it.

I sat with Momma and Renegade during the opening speeches. We were one big happy family again. Before taking our seats, we greeted Maddie and Mr. Alex Summers, and the Guthries made a quick visit (Paige was disappointed we didn't bring Ollie). I briefly caught sight of Melody Jacobs: Nate's ex-girlfriend. Apparently, the rumors were true. She'd suppressed her mutant powers, and was as bright and bubbly as ever. I know my parents would not have approved, but she was clearly in a better state now. I can only imagine what she suffered as a necro-communicator who'd terminated her pregnancy.

During a casual conversation with Dr. McCoy, he dropped a bombshell.

"I'm actually vacationing this summer! Yes, it's been _far_ too long. I've heard so many wonderful things about the French Riviera, and I'm ashamed to say I've never been there myself. A rest is necessary from time to time. In the words of John Lubbock: 'Rest is not idleness. And sometimes, to lie on the grass under the trees on a summer's day, listening to the murmur of water… is by no means a waste of time.' I'm only saddened that I couldn't convince Moira to accompany me. But I suppose that might've been awkward for her, since it will be my honeymoon."

My jaw dropped. "Come again?"

"Indeed. I've asked Dr. Reyes to marry me, and she has agreed. We were keeping it secret, but this seems as good a time as any to confess."

"You mean no one's gonna notice, and den everyone's gonna forget," Momma said with a smile.

He smiled back. "Precisely."

I looked at the couple now – side by side but hands to themselves. Unless you saw them together every day like I did, you might never suspect they were engaged to be married.

My eyes turned to Professor Xavier, who was making a grand speech about the future…

Someone whistled to my right. The sound grew closer, and I realized it was falling from the sky. Momma pushed Renegade and I to the ground and covered us with her body just as the missile struck. Black earth jumped and fell in a flurry. People moved in slow-motion as another struck empty earth, and then a third hit the bleachers where the seniors had been. Panicked, everyone rushed around like ants in the tide. The bombs seemed to be striking everywhere. The only safe place to be was somewhere else. Bodies disassembled, people tripped or where knocked over. Parents rushed for their children; students rushed towards their friends. On the platform, I watched the X-Men move instinctively: first to protect their wards, and then to defend their ground. While Momma, Renegade and I crawled towards safety, I watched the incoming fire. It came from the ground, over the walls, and back down. They were firing blindly, but had plenty of rounds. They must know that some of us would escape and confront them… What was their plan for that? I grabbed onto Renegade's ankle to remind my body to keep moving, and dug inside myself.

_The Friends of Humanity… Retaliation… Weapons from Genosha… Bomb the stadium… Mines in the exits… Plasma guns ready to fire flyers… Slaughter everyone… Retreat…_

"_No_! _Don't_!" I yelled as people funneled through the exits.

The mines activated, throwing the bodies up as the cement walls collapsed and sealed off our escape. Momma screamed very close to my ear, and pulled Renegade and I close to her. Either she meant to shield us with her arms or die with us near. I was not afraid to die, but I wished Papa was with us. I saw Mr. Worthington launch himself into the sky, and just as he cleared the top of the stadium, a plasma gun fired and struck him. He plummeted down like a sack of potatoes. They _had_ us! They knew our every move before _we_ did!

"Stay wit' her!" I shouted to Renegade. Then I wiggled out of my mother's grasp and ran to Nate. "They know!" I shouted.

"What?"

"They KNOW! They know _everything!_ They _knew_ we'd use the ground exits first, and then take to the skies. Next will be – Whatever you do! _Don't_ use your telepathy!"

His eyes widened and darted towards Ms. Frost-Summers. She was too far away; he'd never _physically_ reach her in time. Next he looked to the Stepford Cuckoos, who were clear across the field. Mindee and Sophie suddenly collapsed, forming at the mouths.

"How can _you_ still use your powers?" He asked me, horrified.

"Maybe because it's not offensive…"

"How do we get out?"

I thought for a moment. "The only way out is to go underground! We can't do that without _Ethan_-"

"Ms. Pryde!" He grabbed my hand and we fought through the crowds towards the platform, where most of the staff was still located.

"Emma!"

"Ms. Pryde!"

"Don't use your telepathy!"

"We need your help!"

"_Em_!"

Our voices and faces were lost in the pandemonium. Our hands gripping their arms broke the spell, and only then were we heard.

"Whatever you do, _don't_ use telepathy!" Nate warned his stepmother.

"Why?"

He looked towards me. I was holding Ms. Pryde, but looking at him. Nate said: "Honor knows everything."

I felt the weight of the world on my shoulders. I told Ms. Pryde: "The only unblocked exit is to go _underground_… flank them… Take out the missiles first, that way the flyers can back you up. They've got this device that immobilizes the telepaths when they try to-"

She shook her head: "Later. Let's go, little LeBeau."

I had hoped she wouldn't need me, but I was prepared to accompany her. When she saw me looking around for my father, she turned my face back to her. "Your old man can take care of himself. I need you to focus on _me_. Now hold on tight."

I wrapped my arms around her neck and buried my face. Like most women, her body was shorter and slimmer than mine, and I briefly worried that she wouldn't be able to carry me. Phasing wasn't a physical act, but rather the lack thereof. Our bodies slipped eerily through the platform, and I felt the cool, moist earth envelope us. I was weightless, and then felt myself passing through grass and the sunlight on my face.

"You can open your eyes now," said Ms. Pryde.

We were very far behind our enemies. The stadium was surrounded and half-annihilated. Like watching a war movie, we could see everything. Tan colored Humvees were launching the missiles, with other vehicles providing extra ammunition. I had said these should be the first targets, but there were too many people for Ms. Pryde and me to take on alone.

"We need to get closer," I said. "Quietly. I can blow those trucks away."

"Sweetheart, you're going to need more than _marbles_-"

"No, I can put the charge underground. I can direct it. Recycle it."

Her hazel eyes widened in awe. "You can _do_ that?"

"Well…" I admitted. "I did it _once_. Smaller scale, but I did it."

She hesitated, but phased us closer.

"How's this?" she asked as we re-emerged.

The sky darkened over and the wind picked up very quickly. Tante Ro had had enough. Feeding off the energy in the air and the clouds, I pressed my open palms to the ground. The atoms between my flesh and the earth burned. Bit by bit, I pulled energy from inside and around me, and put the energy out again. Back and forth, back and forth – each time, the power grew a little stronger. But it wasn't enough. I needed a ton of energy very soon. I needed _Tess_. When I thought of her, my heart raced, and the power amplified. I recalled her naked in my arms… her smile in a crowded room… her hand in mine as the bus was crushed and we prepared for death. The power made my head spin. I heard explosions and felt the heat of a distant, intense fire.

"_Whoa_!" Ms. Pryde screamed.

Lightning struck the ground blindly. We were both being whipped around by hurricane force winds. I used a force field to shield myself from the worst of it, and my instructor braced against a tree. Still, the gales knocked my hair from its braid, allowing the locks to slap my face and arms.

I called my energy serpent to the next Humvee, and then another until all seven were destroyed. With my eyes closed, I was able to use my foresight and attack the enemies preemptively. I also saw Tante Ro and Logan emerge from the rumble and lead an attack. The X-Men could attack the visible opponents, but they generally had a problem with _intelligence_. If I didn't take out the anti-telepathy machine, a fraction of the school would have pudding-brains.

"I need to help them!" Ms. Pryde shouted through the gales. "Will you be all right here?"

I pointed to an abandoned Jeep heavy with machinery. "That's hindering the telepaths! I'm going to take it out! You go! Help my papa!"

She ran off, and I re-focused my energy.

_They were prepared… Biological warfare…_

"NOO!" I leapt up and ran towards my target. Each footfall left a neon-blue shadow until there was a trail left in my wake. I screamed and waved my arms for Tante Ro to see me, but I was lost. Even the Friends of Humanity didn't think a little girl was worth their attention. They kept their weapons aimed at the stadium. When I was within spitting distance of the abandoned jeep, I called up the energy trail left behind me. The blue power lingered on my finger-tips, which I then pressed against the Humvee. The vehicle crunched, crumbled, and blew away. _That_ got rounds flying my way! I cowered behind my weakening force-field and shouting to Logan: "The telepaths are safe! _Telepaths_! _Safe_! Avoid the –"

Something behind me exploded. I flew forward, slammed into the side of a car, and collapsed on the ground.

*Chica!* Nate reached out to me. *Well done.*

*Nate. They have… Legacy Virus. Gas bombs in… the chopper.*

Then my mind faded to black.

…

_Rogue flew over the stadium and charged towards the attacking army. Their missiles and plasma shots reflected off her body as if she were a tank. She struck them like a hammer, knocking over Hummers and missile launchers and men like toys. She flew high into the air, high enough to watch the scene like a general from a distant mountain top. Her green eyes landed on Belle and Renegade, still inside the stadium but safe. Next she found Gambit, knee-deep in human bodies and adding to the count._

_But where was Honor? _

_There was an explosion below, and Rogue flew towards the chaos. It was always a safe bet that Honor was at the center of trouble._

"What's this?"

"The mind runs on many things. Just wait."

"_Ah can help. Ah know Ah've been out a while, but Ah know the drill! And with my Ms. Marvel powers back, ya'll need me more than ever."_

"_Chere, you said-"_

"_Ah know what Ah said, Remy, but this is different. Ya wouldn't keep me from fetchin' the twins, and she's mine, too."_

"Who **are** these people?"

"Look at that man. A brother. Or father perhaps."

"He's not old enough to be her father."

"_Remy… can Ah talk to you? Ah know you've been tryin', and ya know Ah ain't been. Ah guess maybe Ah just wanted everything to fall apart just 'cause Ah was. Ah'm sorry."_

_The two of them stood alone in a compartment of the Blackbird. The man called Remy was dressing in some sort of strange uniform, and the woman was half undressed. When she apologized, she pressed her lovely body close to his and softly kissed his lips._

_At first, he stood very stoically._

"_Ah was bein' stubborn and Ah'm sorry. Ah guess… after bein' alone for so long, it's hard for me to depend on someone."_

_She kissed him again, and this time he grabbed her. Months of unvented hurt and anger and bitterness crashed between their lips. The ghost of unburied grudges reared up and reached for them, but its black and bony hand fell to dust as boots and underwear piled on top its ash frame... And all the things they couldn't say were silently dropped like leaves in the fall._

"This doesn't bother you?" It was a woman's voice. "She's a _mutant_. An abomination. And here we are, using her _handicap_ to further our cause."

"Everyone's hands get dirty eventually," a man answered. "That's the price of revolution."

I was lying in a prison hospital bed. They'd stripped me of everything – my clothes, my hair, and my will-power. Little plastic tubes ran into my arms, nose, mouth and temples. Leather straps bound my wrists, ankles and neck. Across my forehead was a strange black belt that pulled my thoughts from my mind, and displayed them neatly on a large screen.

The man whispered into my ear: "We know they're going to come for you. Show us."

_The Blackbird approached the moon._

.::.

"The Neverland Camp is the safest facility for a mutant of this caliber. We will compensate you, of course, and with our research, anything could be possible. I understand you picked up a telepath, also."

"No, that's not true. I don't know where you're getting your information."

"These children have such incredible potential. They're fortunate that you came across them. Summers and Frost would've used them as weapons for their global domination. Now they've got a chance to _really_ do some good for the world…"

"That's very touching, but we haven't decided whether or not we'll be keeping this one."

"Don't be ridiculous! Do you have any idea what she's capable of? This girl's an Alpha level mutant; you won't be able to control her for forever… Even powerless, she's a trained Assassin. She's clever, patient, resourceful, and she's got ties to some of the most powerful organizations in the world. Unless you want your meager little lab blown to bits, you _will_ transfer her."

"_Meager_ _little_ _lab?_ This is a government-!"

"Yes, and if _she_ doesn't destroy it, then the X-Men will. Or the Hellfire Club. Or the New Orleans Guild."

"_What?"_

"Or Wakanda will attack. Or Apocalypse will come to re-claim her."

"Jesus… I had no idea."

"Then, you will release her into my custody."

The idiot scientist didn't know this "Dr. Essex", and was reluctant to comply. However, if this girl was half the trouble Dr. Essex claimed, he could not afford to be proud.

…

Power surged through me unbidden.

'_Wake up!'_ cried my blood. _'Wake up!'_

When I tried to move, I found my limbs and neck restrained. Panic set it. Dislocating my thumbs, I managed to free my hands. I pulled my digits back into their sockets, and removed the tubes from my nose and mouth. There was a large two-way mirror across the room. Undoubtedly, men were watching me escape. They were _testing_ me. I pulled an IV from my arm and used the needle to pick the lock keeping my neck restrained. Mostly freed, I sat up and unbuckled the belts around my ankles.

Men in white scrubs rushed in.

I grabbed the IV stand in one hand, and the screaming heart monitor in another. I charged them and threw them at the orderlies. The devices didn't go far, but they did detonate. Apparently, my captors couldn't deactivate my abilities to charge without deactivating my precognitive abilities, too. (Good for me.) I also knew I'd been under for at least twenty-four hours because my strength and coordination had slipped. That meant my parents were looking for me, and maybe the X-Men, too. But before I could learn anything else, more orderlies rushed in and grabbed my arms. I slithered from their grasp and landed a fist on two jaws. Another grabbed me from behind and injected me with a tranquilizer before I could shake him.

_Behind the mirror_

"If you keep her sedated, she'll loose her abilities. That's the biggest liability with psychics. They lose their grasp on reality, and insanity ensues."

"I'll have her ready for transport at 1500 hours."

.::.

"_Do we have a name for de father?"_

"_Non. He's a product of rape, and dey never caught de guy."_

"_She gotta family?"_

"_Not 'round here. Neighbors t'ink she's from Eastern Europe. Say she never had any visitors, never gave any names."_

"_Looks like it's foster for 'm."_

"_Chin up, Lottie. Babies get adopted quicker than de others."_

"_Not wit' eyes like __**dat**__."_

…

"_Mon Dieu! Papa – his eyes! He __**is**__ de spawn of de devil!"_

"_Non, Henri. He's just a bébé. I t'ink he's a mutant…" Jean-Luc cradled the newborn baby boy in his arms. The infant, so soft and malnourished and helpless, looked up with blood and black eyes. 'Baby Tate' smiled at Jean-Luc. That was the very first heart Remy ever broke with his smile. _

…

_Five or six-year-old Honor sat alone in a park at night. Several chess boards lined an area of the park, anchored by marble columns and accessorized by an anchored chair on each side. Honor sat in one of these seats, her little boots dangling above the ground. She had pulled a jacket over her pink pajamas, and was making a game with the black and white chess pieces._

"'_Ello, Monsieur Black. 'Ello, Monsieur White. Pardon, Monsieur, but you're in my block. Non! You're in __**my**__ block." She took the pieces and clashed their heads together, making alternate sounds of painful cries and angry grunts._

"_I could teach you how de game is __**truly**__ played."_

_A man had crept up behind her, and scared her to death. She considered running. In her experience, grown-ups were faster, but they couldn't match her energy. All she needed was a good start. But no… She knew this man._

"_Jean-Luc? You been followin' me?"_

"_Non, cherie. I like t' come here from time t' time. Your momma know where you are?" He took the seat across from her and began arranging the pieces. "Of course she doesn't. De streets ain't no place for a tite fille t' be alone."_

"_Momma says you're de devil."_

_His hand hesitated over the black knight. He shook off the insult and resumed his chore. "I came t' see you de day you were born. You got your papa's eyes."_

"_Don't speak t' me about my papa. __**You're**__ de reason he ain't around!"_

"_Your momma tell you what happened?... It's true. I did a cruel t'ing. Reckon you and your momma will never forgive me, and maybe I don't deserve it. I was only tryin' t' protect your papa. If dere had been another way…"_

My body jerked, rolled and fell a short distance. I came to and saw white. I felt the heat of distant fire and heard explosions.

Papa was near.

I forced myself off the floor and looked around. I was in a different facility. Indeed, I had already been transported to the Neverland Camp. In rather typical X-Men fashion, the re-con team charged in like a bull. They were obviously detained in combat while my father searched for me. Until the invasion, I was being moved on a gurney down the hallway. I'd been abandoned by my "doctors". They were taking me to experimental surgery! There were others like me trapped here. They would be sliced and diced, also. My first impulse was to free them, but a stronger urge said find my father.

Barefoot, I sprinted to a nearby lobby. The room was half-destroyed and guards were funneling in through a single door. My father stood opposite of the guards, charging cards to keep them at bay. It was genius, really. The only way his opponents could get an edge on him was to flank him. By the time they did that, he'd be done and gone. When Papa saw me, he grabbed my wrist and we ran in the opposite direction. In an abandoned laboratory, we locked the door behind us and helped each other into the air vent. The system was just large enough for us to army-crawl through, and I was glad I wasn't with Tante Ro. He led the way, constantly telling me to move faster. My limbs were weak from lack of exercise and nourishment. We came to a fork, and he whispered: "Which way?"

I didn't know if he was speaking to me or himself, but I hoped he had an answer. Preferably, the _right_ one.

He went to the left, and I followed him.

The next split in the road went three ways – four, including the way we'd just come. Again, he looked around and asked: "Which way?"

He went straight and again, I followed.

We didn't have a distinct light source, but the tunnels weren't too dark to see. More than by my eyes, I followed the sound and smell of him. When he stopped again, I assumed we'd reached another fork. Instead, he punched the wall.

"It's a dead end! I don't care what you're map says! Dere's _nothin'_ here!"

He was communicating with a telepath! But this place had telepaths, too, and the lines were easily crossed. _Stupid!_ There was a thundering in the tunnel behind us.

"Papa!" I whispered in a panic.

"_Catin_, listen t' me very carefully. Dey gonna separate us, try t' scare us. You need t' turn off. You understand what I'm sayin'?"

"No," I whimpered. "We can fight!"

"We will. But dis don't look good for us. You just go t' sleep, and I wake you up when it's safe."

"What about-"

"Do as you told!"

I was vaguely aware of the tunnel vibrating as our captors closed in. Papa charged the metal sheets around us, and we fell into an empty office. He tried breaking the window, but it was plexi-glass. A dozen or more bodies filled the room, and I floated away as if in a dream.

…

_Crack._

_Crack._

_Tap-Tap._

"Why isn't she responding?"

"She's found a way to repress her mind. _This_ should wake her up."

"Sissy?"

I jerked back to consciousness. My pinky and ring finger of my left hand burned and ached. I looked – broken. I was tied to a chair, strapped at my feet, elbows, wrists, and across my chest. In the next room, I could hear a banging noise. Was my father being beaten? Or was he kicking the wall, trying to send me a message? I looked around the room. I was _certain_ I'd heard Becca's voice! Where was she? God, _please_ don't let them have her! No; she was safe. My captors had recorded her voice from my memories and used it as a weapon. A man grabbed my middle finger on my left hand.

"You're alive for one reason, and one reason only. When's the next attack?"

I screamed for them. I imagine for someone in the torture business, a scream is the measure of success. Indeed, the man told me I had the most beautiful cry he'd ever heard. I didn't want to give them the satisfaction, but it was the only relief I got. I pleaded, I begged, I bargained and I threatened. But they pressed on like a hammer: breaking every finger until I vomited in my own lap. It wasn't just the pain that upset me so. How could I play with crooked fingers?

My interrogators didn't really want any information from me. They felt secure at this location: wherever we were. I was back with the Church of Humanity. When they discovered that the idiot wanted to transfer me to Essex, they left the camp to the X-Men's invading forces. No. They only left a _part_ of the camp. These people didn't have the knowledge or technology to extract information from my mind, but they didn't really want information, anyway. What they _really_ wanted was to infiltrate the X-Men. Since they could never break Papa, they planned to break _me_. Hopefully, he would do whatever they wanted to protect me. They hoped he would kill the X-Men in exchange for my life. And after he killed the X-Men, he could assassinate the president. And then whoever else stood in their way.

Wherever my father was, he could hear everything: every bone breaking, every desperate scream, every plea for mercy and the agonizing cry of hopelessness as my request was denied.

After all my fingers were destroyed, they left. Another man entered, and I trembled when he touched me. But he was here to help. My fear was so rich that even _I_ could smell it. He cleaned up the bile on my legs and washed my face. I asked him to fix my fingers, but he only shook his head. I was given orange juice to drink, which I accepted against my better judgment.

In the next room, I heard banging again.

The helpful man left me, and I strained to hear what was happening to my father. I could only hear muffled voices, dull pounding sounds, and the casual snapping of bones.

Papa was blocking me.

Love made him weak and he needed to be strong.

I heard a loud snap. There was no mistaking _that_ bone. They'd broken his femur: the strongest bone in the body. The men chuckled at their good fortune. No doubt, they'd been working tirelessly for _that_ result. One of them shouted at Papa, demanding to hear him scream. He wanted to know if I screamed like my father; he said it was a good sign of nerve sensitivity. If my father's body couldn't _feel_, they'd make me scream instead. They knew he would feel _that_. There was another loud snap, and this time, Papa groaned.

Laughter.

The pounding of metal against flesh.

_Crunch. _

_Snap._

Moan.

When the banging subsided, there was a pause and I almost pissed myself. They were coming back. The door opened, and the two men returned. I trembled all over. They carried a surgical tray with them, and the leader cleaned a scalpel until it gleaned. I tried to be brave. For Christ's sake, I had been trained in "interrogation resistance". I'd even been tortured before, but only in small doses: never anything like this. These fuckers meant business.

"Have you ever seen an autopsy performed, Miss. LeBeau?" He asked. "It begins with a 'Y' incision across the chest and down the stomach. That way, all the vital organs are exposed. Heart, lungs, stomach, and intestines. Then, of course, we need to observe the brain. Additional organs may also be tested for abnormalities. Your eyes… I think I'd like to start with them. Open your eyes! OPEN THEM!"

I thrashed my head back and forth, but it wasn't long before they restrained me. Like a scene from hell, I felt the blade in his hand nearing my eyes. The thin skin covering my optical orbs gave away like butter, and I felt an unbearable burning, tearing sensation in my most delicate organ. My own screams filled my ears like a roaring ocean. Beneath the current, I was vaguely aware of a banging in the next room. Papa was trying to tell me something. Telling me to be strong.

The wall separating us started to glow. My tormenters turned their heads and the wall exploded. I expected an army to come charging in, but I was alone. All I could think about was the pain.

I thrashed around, groaning: "My eyes… Please… my eyes…"

Finally, Papa wrapped a cloth tightly around my eyes. The pressure helped a little, but I really wanted to rip them from their sockets. _Anything_ to relieve the pain.

He untied me and held my wrists to observe the damage to my hands.

I heard footfalls – bad guys. Suddenly, they vanished. Their bodies had combusted, and Papa's hands returned to my arms.

"Papa? Say something!"

He drug his index finger over my cheek – down, over. Across, down, across. Around in a circle. He was trying to tell me something!

"Wait! Start over."

L-?-G-B-R-O-K-?-N.

"_Both_ of them?" I asked. "One for yes, two for no."

Yes.

"And… Your jaw, too?"

Yes.

M-O-V-E.

"I can carry you," I said. "Climb on my back."

He weighed a ton and I was exhausted. We moved very slowly, but time was not pressing. When people tried to stop us, Papa blew them away. I didn't know what he was using to fire; it's possible he wasn't using _anything_. I used my energy to carry him and See where we were going. I couldn't focus too much on him or I'd become distracted by his battered state. Occasionally, I sensed we were charging into a wall, but Papa would blow it away. Finally, I felt the cold night air. Pandemonium was all around! I heard explosions, lightning crack, gun fire, and Rogue flying overhead like a bullet. I screamed savagely, mostly out of relief, and felt Papa use his right hand to fire all around us. His left arm was losing its grip. Hot blood soaked the rag around my eyes, and dripped down my face like holy tears.

Knowing Rogue was near, my body gave up.

She easily lifted us both and carried us to the jet. I felt myself being placed in another gurney, and tried to resist. Dr. McCoy grabbed my shoulders. "Let us take care of you, Miss LeBeau."

"My eyes… please… please take them out."

"I will give you something for the pain."

He gave me a shot, and I felt him move away. "Logan," he said, "Please make sure she lies still."

The plane began to shift, and I felt Logan very close.

"Logan," I groaned, "Please…"

"I'm here, Pep."

"Please fix my fingers. If you don't… I might lose'm…"

"Take a deep breath. You're mind's rattled. Try to think about something else."

"No," I shook my head and felt tears mix with blood. "I'm not crazy! My parents want me to go to Juilliard. Mr. Anderson thinks I'm good. I could lose feeling in… My fingers… please fix them."

His silence was stony. Finally, he said: "This'll hurt."

"It hurts already."

He took my blackened and deformed fingers in one hand, and used the other to gently stroke my bald head. I tried not to scream out when he set my digits. After each finger, he kindly wrapped them to hold the broken bones in place. And before he moved on the next finger, he carefully examined it to determine the quickest way to mend the break. Finally, the pain medication kicked in. I was only vaguely aware of my fingers or Logan, but my eyes were throbbing.

The Blackbird encountered some turbulence, and the X-Men made quite a fuss about it. Maybe we were under attack; I didn't know. I didn't _care_ to know.

.::.

I awoke safely tucked into a hospital bed. My fingers still ached a little. I felt a pressure over my eyes, but no pain. Although I couldn't see with my eyes, I knew Momma and the little ones were in the room. Ollie was the reason I was no longer asleep.

"Sissy!" he giggled, "What happened t' your _head_!"

Momma slapped his knee, but I smiled.

"This is what happens when you don't take your bath. All your hair falls out!"

Ollie and Becca laughed and Momma let them climb on my bed, but they couldn't get closer than my knees and weren't allowed to touch my hands. She put Hero between my ankles and held her in place. Even at that distance, I could smell and feel them. How I had missed their sweetness!

"You not gonna stay 'ere all summer, are you?" Becca pouted. "I want you and Papa t' come home!"

"Why you leave, Sissy?" asked Ollie.

"That's enough questions," Momma snapped. "Sissy's still very weak. Now, if you want t' see your father, you'll have to be on your very best behavior. No running or jumping or yelling. And I'm gonna need ya'll t' help me wit' Sissy while she's sick."

"What happened to Papa?" I asked.

Ollie and Becca were more than happy to "help". My little brother pulled a wheelchair out of the corner, and Becca got Hero into her stroller. Neither one of them could see past the devices they operated, but it didn't deter their efforts.

"After de Blackbird picked you up," Momma said, "your papa tried t' get Rogue t' absorb his memories. She wouldn't do it 'cause she knew she'd just go back an' kill everyone. Dat's what he wanted. Since she refused 'm, he used his powers t' blow up de whole department."

"With _what_?"

"His will, I reckon. Took everyt'ing outta him."

"What do you mean?"

"He's in a coma, chere."

"Dat means he won't wake up," Ollie supplied helpfully. "He can't talk, but he hear's us."

"You can kiss 'm," added Becca. "But you have t' be easy 'cause he hurts all over."

We went down the hall to my father's room. I wasn't at all prepared for what I saw. Papa had tubes in every orifice, keeping him breathing and peeing and his heart beating. His face was grey, his body weak and hallow. The room reverberated angst. So many visitors – Tante Ro, Logan, Professor Xavier, Dr. McCoy and Dr. Reyes, Momma and the kiddies, Ms. Frost-Summers and Megan – all pouring out their sympathy and sorrow for him. Rogue had become an attachment to his hand, and she looked awful.

"God, everyone in this family looks like _crap_," I said, adjusting the wheels on my chair so I could enter the narrow space between Papa's bed and his heart monitor. "We need to take a note from Frosty. The end of the world is no excuse to _not_ look fabulous."

The sorrow broke for a moment, and a smile graced the face of my heavy-hearted clan.

I took his hand in mine, which was heavy with medical clothes-pens.

"You can see us?" asked Rogue.

"See you? Hell, I can _smell_ you."

She laughed and then it turned into tears.

"Rogue, I'm sorry-"

"No, no," she waved a hand dismissively. "Ah'm just so glad you're… You're so much like him…"

I knew what no one could tell me. He was barely alive. They suspected he was hanging on for me – to hear and feel me once more before he crossed over.

"Where's Jean-Luc?" I asked. "He'd want to be here…"

"You mean-" Momma's voice broke and Rogue started crying again.

"I mean he'd want to be here," I said firmly. "He's very weak; you know that."

"What do you see?" Rogue pressed.

"I can't imagine a life without him," I answered. "That's all I See."

The door opened and I heard Dr. McCoy enter. "Miss LeBeau, you shouldn't move without telling-"

"How long's he been like this?" I asked.

"Thirty-seven hours," my science teacher answered.

I shook my head. "He wouldn't want to live on machines. And whatever may come, he'd want to be at _home_. He hates hospitals."

Rogue sobbed into the mattress.

"He may recover, Miss LeBeau. People have been in comas for-"

"Days. Years. I know. If he can be treated at home, that's what he'd want. I think… I think it would help."

…

Everyone seemed to think my family was accepting the inevitable by removing Papa from the hospital.

Was I?

Using my precognitive powers, I learned the true extent of the attack. Mindee and Sophie of the Stepford Cuckoos were dead. Twenty-six students and a dozen parents also lost their lives. Professor Xavier was spinning the situation to glean all the sympathy he could from the public, but the case against X-Force was moving full-steam ahead. Fifteen Senators and thirteen Congressmen had been indicated as co-conspirators. Even _I_ had no idea how deep this went. Shortly after the media found out, each politician resigned. Only two remained in office, proudly declaring their innocence and faith in the justice system. They were both assassinated.

Professor Xavier even had to publically denounce Mr. Summers. Ironically, their relationship had been strained because Mr. Summers felt Xavier had lost _his_ way. The denunciation was painful for both of them, although neither would admit it.

The attack had a profound effect on the populace, too. On the streets, people were randomly attacking and harassing mutants. In turn, mutants were banding together under radical leaders. Some wanted to destroy all _Homo sapiens_; others wanted to retreat and live in isolation. It was like the early days all over again. All Xavier's work and sacrifice… and for what? We were right back where we started.

Those personally involved in X-Force – Sam Guthrie, for one – had mysteriously disappeared.

Congress had decided to appoint a committee to investigate the charges against the X-Men and so-called X-Force. Since Xavier's protégés were committing potential acts of war, another committee was put in charge of regulating the X-Men. Everything from purchases to missions to new students would have to receive approval from the committee.

The very existence of the X-Men was in jeopardy.

But all this took second priority for Mr. Summers. He'd been advised to go dark for a while, too, but that wasn't an option for him. He had to consider the welfare of his wife and newborn daughter. The students (in his opinion) looked to him as an example. Whatever came of this revelation, he would face it head-on. He was not afraid of consequences. But Nate was the real reason he stayed.

Of all the unforgiveable acts I'd committed in my life, none were more atrocious than telling Nate about the Legacy Virus. My friend acted as he always did. He took the responsibility of disarming the bomb upon his own shoulders. He didn't ask for help or tell anyone where he was going… I suppose he didn't really have a choice. In all the panic, he could only _act_. Since I'd disarmed the device against telepaths, he was able to discover where the biological weapon was located. He intercepted the helicopter, removed the occupant's mid-air, and managed to contain the explosion. Sadly, he was caught up in the blast himself.

Nate was currently being treated in the same hospital as my father.

I didn't _need_ to visit him in order to _see_ him, but I put my body as close to him as I could manage. I thought maybe he could feel me. He was quarantined in a large room with transparent walls. My poor friend had no privacy, but I don't think that was a concern for him. All his mental and physical efforts went into combating the progress of the virus. The doctors said he was strong, and with advances in the medical field, he might survive for months. _Months_.

Maddie was able to visit him. The virus only effects mutants, but even still, she was taking an enormous leap of faith. She would sit with him, hold his hand and sometimes cry. He couldn't acknowledge her. Literally _all_ of his effort went into fighting the virus. It was incredible, really. He was controlling his own body at a molecular level. But for how long?

The day we took Papa home – for better or worse – a warrant was issued for Mr. Summers' arrest. He must've known about it, but he came to see Nate anyway. I was in the hallway when the police closed in on him. Although the task force greatly outnumbered him, they were still anxious. Mr. Summers was extremely powerful, but they weren't intimidated by his wealth or physical prowess. To them, he was a deranged monster.

"Mr. Summers?" An officer approached him.

"Yes. I'm here to see my son."

"Come with us, please."

"I _came_ to see my _son_."

The little men in blue uniforms reached for their weapons. The medical staff in the hall froze. Everyone _knew_ Mr. Summers was a murderer.

Would he kill again?

Rogue and I were with Dr. Reyes. We were transporting my father's ailing body to an ambulance, and then to our home in Poughkeepsie. Dr. McCoy had volunteered to visit our house early and set up a make-shift hospital, where Momma was waiting with the little ones. Like everyone else, we froze with anticipation.

"You need to come with us, sir," the officer insisted. "Resisting arrest won't help your son."

"_Nothing's_ going to _help_ my child," Mr. Summers spat.

He attempted to step past the herd of blue uniforms, and every one of them drew a gun. The nurses and patients within sight ducked into a room or under a desk. Mr. Summers' red visor caught and reflected a dangerous light, but Rogue stepped in before the situation could escalate. She flew towards him and knocked him to the ground, holding both arms behind his head. With her free hand, she removed his visor and squeezed it. The glass and metal turned to dust and debris fell beside his ear.

"Now! Ya gonna go nicely? Or ya gonna risk blowin' up Nate's room?"

He didn't go peacefully, but he didn't open his eyes, either. His legs pushed against the floor and his arms pulled away from Rogue's grasp. Of course, she used very little effort containing him. When it became apparent that Mr. Summers would be forced from the hospital without seeing Nate, he cried out his son's name.

It was horrible and shameful, but Nate's heart strengthened a little.

.::.

Papa knew he was home. When he first arrived, his eye lids fluttered and his index finger rose as if he were summoning someone. We were foolish enough to get our hopes up, but apparently this was his last bit of energy. Afterwards, his blood pressure plummeted, and Dr. McCoy didn't think he would survive the night. I prayed that God would move Jean-Luc's plane faster. Tante Ro arrived that afternoon, and Papa seemed to abandon all hope. His breathing stopped and his heart slowed considerably. Dr. McCoy was able to revive him with CPR, but Rogue was a mess. I almost wished this ordeal would just come to a close. His death would be unbearable, but at least it would be something to _deal_ with. This having-him-but-not-having-him was worse than death.

"Rogue, you must consider…" Dr. McCoy began slowly. "…how many times I should continue to revive him. He may continue to lapse."

But she was in no shape to make that decision. "Hank, Ah can't do this," she said, so upset that she forgot to breathe. "Ah'm sorry… Ah _can't_…"

I asked: "If you revive him, will he be what he was? In body and mind?"

"I… I believe so…"

"Then please continue. At least until Jean-Luc gets here."

Tante Ro had to take Rogue out of the room. Normally, Momma would've stepped in and helped to shoulder the burden, but she was a wreck, too. For a woman who'd tried to kill my father, she was awfully distraught over his imminent death. Many of our closest friends waited nearby. Logan, Dr. Reyes, Renegade, Uri, and Papa's past and present squads were at our house for support, but only family was allowed in his room during his twilight hours. The little ones wandered in and out: frightened and sad, but mostly confused.

…

Jean-Luc arrived shortly after nine. I met him at the door, and he swept me up into a rib-crushing embrace. Marguerite wasn't with him, thank goodness. My grandfather looked terrible, and I was glad she didn't have to watch the tears fall from his blood-shot eyes. I escorted him through the living room, where part of the vigil waited on the terrible news. Renegade and Uri made make-shift beds for everyone, and Logan acquired beer and pizza for supper. They even managed to reach Ethan, and made him swear to come as soon as possible. Ethan wasn't as far away as Jean-Luc, but he also didn't have the resources that Jean-Luc did.

Inside the master bedroom, Jean-Luc greeted Momma and Rogue with hugs and grabbed up Becca and Ollie at once. It was very unusual for my grandfather to be this expressive. I never had any doubt that he loved us, but his love was a very unpredictable thing. For one, he'd never _said_ he loved any of us. He said he missed us, trusted us, and (if we were lucky) he was proud of us. But he was never around unless there was a crisis. Most of the time, he felt no need to include us in his life, either. This was part of his "charm", Momma once told me. I knew this detachment was one of the reasons she hated Jean-Luc, and it was a big factor in my father's life. He'd grown up thinking – no, _knowing_ – that people can't form everlasting bonds. Possibly, my father felt himself _unworthy_ of a personal connection. When Rogue came along, that changed for him. Now my father had true and deep roots, and he had made himself the sort of father who was probably _too_ involved with his children. Papa said he'd never put an ocean between him and his kids, but he didn't understand Jean-Luc. My grandfather was two-hundred and seven years old. He'd lost a lot of wives, and outlived a good number of children and grandchildren. My father and his children were the last link Jean-Luc had to the living… Other than Marguerite, of course.

His reason for keeping himself away wasn't for lack of love… He acted out of fear of abandonment. And now, as his last child lay dying, I saw that fear take hold. He moved slowly towards my father, and very tenderly placed his hand on Papa's forehead. He brushed back Papa's cinnamon hair like Momma did for me when checking for a fever.

When I first met my father three years ago, his face was smooth. Now I saw a permanent worry line between his brow and weak creases across his forehead. Underneath his thick brown hair, I caught a sliver of silver.

Jean-Luc had spent the better part of two centuries running from death and old age. How did he feel now, watching time claim another loved one?

"Dr. McCoy, Miss Munroe," Jean-Luc finally said. "I t'ank you kindly for watchin' over m' family, but might I request a moment a' privacy?"

They nodded and left without speaking.

He withdrew a vial from his coat pocket, and looked at Rogue, Momma and me. "Who wants it?" he asked.

Momma and I looked at each other.

"What is it?" asked Rogue quietly.

"De Elixir of Life…" Momma breathed. "Grants immortality… De great secret a' de T'ieves Guild. Luc, where you find dat?"

"Paris. _Ma femme_ has good friends."

_Lie_.

"It can save 'm?" Rogue asked with wide eyes. "Then what in hell you waitin' on?"

"It could kill 'm, chere," Luc explained.

"It could do worse," added Momma. "It could make 'm a monster. Julien… When my brother was dyin', someone acquired de Elixir for 'm. It saved his life, but he wasn't my brother anymore. He was deranged. Angry all de time."

She closed her eyes, but I saw the tears. My mother had never spoken of that day; not to _me_, anyway. Papa told me that he'd killed Oncle Julien, but if he'd only left him fatally wounded… And then received the Elixir… That meant someone _else_ had to finish him off.

_Momma_.

Was that the true source behind her anger for my father? What if Oncle Julien were still alive? The thought sent chills up my spine. What sort of hideous creature would he be? And could I condemn my father to the same fate?

"Remy wasn't a coward," Momma said fiercely, wiping away her tears. "He _ain't_ a coward. If it's his time t' go, he'd face it."

"Courage has nothin' to do with it, Belle!" said Rogue. "You're his _ex_ with a nearly grown child. Ah've got two youngin's Ah've got to think about. Are they gonna grow up never knowin'-" Her voice broke off and she covered her face.

"He'll live," said Luc. "He'll outlive you and your children, and your children's children. Remy loves his family more den his life. You need t' t'ink about what you're doin' t' him."

"If ya don't wanna give it to him, why'd you go through the trouble of getting' it?" asked Rogue.

"I ain't givin' it t' him, and I ain't withholdin' it," my grandfather replied. "De decision is up t' ya'll. You know 'm best."

"Ah say yes."

"I say _non_."

Three pairs of eyes turned to me: brown, green and purple.

Even while my father was dying, Tess was on my mind. If she were here, could she help him? Or was he too far gone? A priest visited Papa while he was still in the hospital because we didn't know if he'd survive the trip home. Now I wish I'd called her hours ago, but I didn't know he had this much time. I didn't know Jean-Luc would risk his life to acquire the Elixir. I had to consider Rogue and the twins. She was twenty-eight: too young to be his widow. If he passed away, she'd be distraught and heart-broken. She'd mourn away several years of her life. But eventually, she would re-marry, and another man would help her raise my father's children.

If only I could _tell_ him that, the anger alone would keep his heart beating.

He'd waited _five years_ for Rogue. He had to settle for _metaphorically_ holding her hand while she sorted out all her past issues. If suffering was love, she was the most beloved woman since Helen of Troy. He'd had to live with _Mystique_, for godssake! And then there were the twins. Becca and Ollie were only two-years-old. Without Papa, they'd shoulder Rogue's sorrow, and carry with them things no child should suffer. They'd learn to regret their very existence: knowing how Rogue saw him in their faces, and couldn't forget her love. Everything they inherited from Papa would be foreign and strange to them.

"I'm sorry," I told my father. "We still need you."

.::.

Ethan reluctantly knocked on the door of LeBeau Manor. Half a dozen cars filled the drive-way, and he could see people sleeping on the floor of the living room. It was nearly eleven… He didn't think anyone would still be in bed. Roxy opened the door. She'd graduated last year, but obliviously returned when she heard of Gambit's condition. Of all the people who might've greeted him, she was perhaps the best, but her rocky exterior wasn't inviting. Without a smile and with lowered brows, she inspected him.

"Uri called," he said quickly. "Honor asked me to come."

"For _Nate_," Gambit's voice sharply corrected him.

Mr. LeBeau descended the stairs, silently dismissing Roxy while blocking Ethan from the door. Ethan's former instructor looked slightly unnerving in cotton pajamas and a house robe. Gambit was pale, underfed, and weary, but he didn't look as bad as Uri said…

"We goin' t' see 'm today. You can come, but you ain't welcome in my house."

"What are you doin' up?" Belle scolded. When she caught sight of Ethan, her violent eyes took a dangerous edge. For a moment, he thought the two of them would kill him and bury him in the yard. "You can stay on de porch," she seethed at Ethan. "Dat's how we treat de dogs." Belle took Gambit's hand and gently lectured him: "Come back t' bed. God only knows what he done t' your blood pressure."

"Damnit, woman, I'm not an invalid! I'm a grown man, and I can get a _café_ _noir_!"

"You got a dozen people here t' do dat for you!"

The two of them turned away.

"Wait!" Ethan called.

Gambit continued as if he hadn't heard, but Belle looked at him.

"I – I-" he stuttered, "He looks good. From everything I heard… I thought he'd be half-dead. But – he's walking and speaking and he knows everyone…"

"_Oui_," she said quietly. "His recovery is remarkable. After his father showed up last night, he just woke up. We t'ought he'd be stupid or weaker, but if anyt'ing, he better den ever. De doctors can't explain it." As she turned and went back inside, she added darkly, "Maybe it's a miracle."

…

I didn't understand why everyone tried to keep Papa in bed since he was well enough to walk around. I'd compare his behavior to a child's, but I've never seen a child behave so terribly! Anytime he was alone, he'd make a trip to the restroom or kitchen. When Rogue entered his dimly lit room, he pulled her on his lap and showered her neck with kisses. With Momma, he had insults and dismissals. When the twins charged towards his bed, he lifted them both simultaneously.

He was back to his old self.

Rogue allowed his most loyal disciples to visit him in pairs. Everyone was stunned and pleased at his unnatural recovery. Twenty-four hours after he'd been revived from death, he could no longer be contained in his room. He had dinner with all twenty-one of us. We had to eat outside because we couldn't all fit inside any single room. The atmosphere was very casual (Papa was still in his pajamas and the chairs didn't match), but somehow deeply meaningful. The sunset seemed more beautiful; the food filled my stomach more; and the laughter of the people I loved most sounded sweeter.

I loved them all so much that it hurt.

As usual, I said grace. After the echoes of "Amen", I looked down the table. I sat near my family, both my family by blood, by marriage and by love. Farther down, I saw the misfit students my father had taken under his wing – volatile Sydney, ugly Nick, skinless Salvador, rock-skinned Roxy, rain-boy Carl, club-footed Janet, autistic Rodger, gigantic Peter, and Megan and Sarah with matching pink hair. I knew they loved my father more than their own parents, and that assured me that I'd made the right choice.

As the sun began to set, fireflies flickered in the yard and above our lake. I heard the distant hum of frogs and crickets, and I could almost _smell_ the river water. The little ones chased bugs while we grown-ups recanted happy memories.

"On one of my very first missions with Gambit, we had to infiltrate this strip joint," said Sarah.

"Yeah, dat sounds like 'm," Momma said into her glass of red wine.

Sarah laughed with the rest of us and continued: "So we decide to go through the sewers. God, it wrecked! There we are – the five of us and Mr. LeBeau – walking through shit-colored – oh, sorry, Rogue – walking through brown water. Now, we're using hand signals and night vision, trying to be _super_ quiet, right?

"And all of a sudden, I hear: 'sssssSSSSHHHHhhh-ooooooooppah!' And there goes Jeremy! Belly-up in that shit water! Just like a rocket, he shot right past us!"

The table roared with laughter, particularly Papa and Sarah's former squad mates. Poor Jeremy had passed away just a year after graduating, and I felt a little guilt laughing at him. Papa said he was always a clumsy bastard, and that's what got him killed.

"Now, we're just dying of laughter, right?" Sarah said. "All pretense of seriousness _gone!_ I laughed so hard I gave myself stitches, and then… And then Jeremy says…" She couldn't stop laughing.

"He said: '_I'm stuck_!'" Papa finished for her.

"And that's how he got the name 'Turtle'!" added Sarah, her face almost as pink as her hair.

We doubled over and shook with laughter. Even Logan had a broad smile on his face. I had a sudden vision of Mr. Summers, sitting alone in a prison cell. He wore an orange jump suit and hid his face in his hands. His lawyer told him to take the plea bargain… Emma was pissed that the bail was taking so long to go through… But when he closed his eyes, all he could see was Nate's metallic hands, which had been completely conquered by the virus.

When we visited Nate earlier that day, Dr. McCoy gave us an update. There hadn't been any progress. In fact, the virus appeared to be winning. Because Nate had a rare blood type, his transfer supply was becoming depleted. Dr. McCoy tested us (minus Papa, of course) to see if we shared his blood type.

Surprisingly, Ethan did.

He agreed to donate some blood, and the more Dr. McCoy investigated Ethan's body, the more similarities he discovered between the two of them. They were both allergic to peanuts. They were both double-jointed. They both had high levels of calcium, and they'd both broken a collar bone in the same spot at age six. It was freaky, really. Apparently, Ethan was a little too freaked out by everything. After his blood donation, he left town again. He didn't even say good-bye to me…

That was all right. I knew I made him uncomfortable with my blindfold and bald head.

"It's too bad," said Carl, getting my attention back to the present. "All the memories we have at Xavier… What's going to happen to it? I always thought my little brother would graduate there, too, but now I don't think he'll ever attend."

"It's bittersweet," Roxy agreed.

The once rambunctious table was in danger of becoming somber, so Rogue quickly changed the subject.

"At least we've got the summer to work things out. Remy and Ah are gonna take a vacation in Valle Soleada."

"You are?" I blurted out.

"_Mais_," said Papa, "T'ings ain't final."

He knew I _hated_ California.

The sand.

The salty ocean.

The unobscured view.

"The air will be good for him," Rogue argued, looking firmly at my father. "He needs to get away from the drama that is the X-Men. Besides," she added cheerfully, "Ollie and Becca have never been out west. It'll be an adventure for them."

"I ain't goin'," Momma told me. "You can stay here and mind Hero while I start m' new career."

"Those are my options?" I stewed. "Sunburn and sand in places it shouldn't be, or doing Lena's job for free? You guys _suck_!"

"Or," Jean-Luc offered slyly, "You come t' France for de summer. I t'ink you need a vacation, too, _tite fille_. It's in de country – gardens as far as de eye can see. It's a quiet lil' place. But if you get bored, we can drive t' de city. I take you t' see Paris an' we play tourists. No worries about boys or viruses. And you can meet Marguerite's _chille_. Her _tite fille_ about your age, so you ain't gonna be deserted wit' us old folks."

I suspect that last part was offered to persuade my parents; they could never deny family for family's sake. But it _did_ sound tempting. I won't lie: the best part would be getting away from New York. I couldn't be here and not miss Tess and Ethan and Nate…

"I didn't know Marge had a daughter," Momma said, pouring herself another glass of wine.

"_Oui_. Mona's sixteen. She lives wit' her father in Italy, but comes t' France during de summer." He spread his palms. "Just a suggestion."

"I've never been to _France_," I stupidly reminded my parents.

I knew what they were thinking by the look on their faces. They didn't want me so far away, and they didn't want me with Jean-Luc. They trusted him to keep me _alive_, but he'd probably indulge my every whim. After all the trouble I'd caused (that they _knew_ about), I didn't really deserve to get spoiled all season.

"Look," I argued, "I know you guys don't want me out of your sight, but you're going to be on different coasts this year. That means _one_ of you will be without me anyway. If you let me go to France, I can expand my cultural horizon _and_ meet my Eastern cousins."

"Actually, she's your _tante_," my grandfather corrected.

I ignored him and folded my hands under my chin. "_Plleeeeeeeease_?"

"We t'ink about it," Papa said dismissively.

Megan and Tante Ro started another story about how Papa taught them to pick locks. Silly as it was, my Tante later used that skill to save her team. Dr. McCoy said Papa was the luckiest man he'd ever known, and Logan said he was the only one who could properly play poker. It was all very touching; like my father got to hear his own eulogy. After dinner, Papa's former students decided to return to their homes, which were shattered all over the country. He felt obliged to bid them all _adieu_, and afterwards, I could see the strain it had placed on him.

"Ah _told_ you it was too much!" Rogue scolded while helping him back upstairs. "Now Ah'm gonna have to get Logan to carry your sorry carcass upstairs!"

"Not a _chance_, darlin'," he called, lighting up a cigar.

"_Jesu_, Logan!" Momma complained. "Don't smoke dem t'ings in here! If Remy can't, you can't!"

"See, that's where you're wrong," he replied easily. "Just 'cause you got _that_ man by the balls, doesn't mean you've got every man."

Tante Ro quickly interjected. "Do you think Rogue could be persuaded to get some proper rest tonight? I could stay with him."

"My lovely Storm," replied Dr. McCoy, "I suspect _Rogue_ will not be the one to persuade. He is in perfect health, with all the energy and spunk we've come to associate with Gambit. That said - I shall take my leave. Belle, you have my number. Do not hesitate to call for any reason."

"You drug him for me?"

Logan left with Dr. McCoy, complaining about my mother's house rules.

The house was so quiet I could _hear_ the silence.

My family settled down, resting in our own beds like lambs after a day in the sun. Although I was the farthest removed, I could still hear Becca and Ollie breathing softly in my father's room. I heard Renegade and Uri whispering all night. Nearest my room, I heard my mother's snores stop whenever Hero rolled over. I heard my father's heart beating stronger than it had in days. And I even heard the cautious footfalls of my Tante Ro as she checked on me periodically through the dark.

The sun rose, and as usual, Momma was the first one awake. I smelled coffee and bacon, and heard her whisking eggs in a bowl. I wanted to lie in and listen. Sometimes, it was wonderful to be removed from a situation. However, that was not to be.

"HONOR!" Momma shouted, not caring who she disturbed. "HONOR JULIEN LEBEAU!"

I heard her angry feet pounding up the stairs to my room. Panicked, I jumped out of bed and pulled on a jacket in case I should need to run outside. My door nearly came off the hinges. She waited in the doorway: one hand on her hip and a piece of paper in the other.

"I've got a letter from Dauimer's boy. You been _writtin'_ him?"

She had read it.

"No, _he_ wrote _me_!" I said defensively. "I told him I didn't wanna hear from him again!"

"And den you send de Guild eight million dollars?"

I heard Papa coming behind her, and used the brief distraction to read what he'd written.

.::.

_Dear Honor,_

_I hear New Orleans thinks you're a saint for putting braces on their kids. I wasn't serious about needing money. Eight mill must've been a real bolt in the arm._

_If it makes you sleep any better, Marie decided to re-build your momma's house first._

_I saw on the news that you sold Freaks. You build up the Guild and after one sucky battle, you run away. Then you build up this internet thing and sell it and give the money away. What's up with that?_

_If you were a man, I'd say you have commitment issues._

_-Vaughn_

_P.S. I'm kinda thinking you threw this out without reading it, but __if__ you're reading this, it means you've forgiven me. Don't be a douche. Write back._

I looked down and smiled to myself, but Momma caught me.

"You t'ink you're real clever, don't you?" She snapped, handing the evidence to my father. "You were told t' put dat money in a savings account!"

"And I did," I answered. "It's just a _Guild_ savings account."

"Dat money coulda paid for your college! You coulda got a car! You t'ink _we_ gonna buy dat for you? T'ink again, missy!" She looked to my father, "You got not'ing t' add?"

"Dis one's on _you_, Belle. I would never give _my_ money away. She got dat from you!" Then, he said almost to himself: "Where's Hector?..."

A lump formed in my throat. Hector was our new security enforcer, and I was worried he'd somehow be in trouble for this.

I followed my father downstairs, where he made a call.

"You were told t' hold all mail from de Guilds," my father said sternly.

"No, sir," Hector corrected, "I was told to intercept all the mail coming from _New Orleans_. I apologize for the lapse, but I couldn't have known Texas was a hot spot, too. Shall I flag the address?"

Papa looked at me with piercing eyes.

"No. Non, _merci_."

I couldn't believe it. Was he really going to let me to keep writing Vaughn? Even after that debacle with Ethan and our… sabbatical from the Guild?

"No?" I asked him.

We were alone in the kitchen. Although I still wore a blindfold, he looked at my eyes because he knew I could still see. He was pissed, but the emotions in him were jumbled. I could only hope that he'd talk to me.

"So you back wit' de Guild?" he countered.

"No… I – I don't know."

"_Mais_, you need t' decide. Dese people look up t' you, chere. You not gonna be dere for dem, dey need t' know dat. And if you are, den I need t' know dat."

"Papa…" I hung my head, "I don't know what t' do…"

"You ain't gotta do nothin', chere."

Do _nothing_? Yeah, right!

"He just started writing," I said slowly. "I don't know why. The only thing we ever had in common was the Guild… I guess it was easy to talk to him because I didn't have to see him. I thought I could tell him things, but everything I said, he just challenged it. _Everything_ I said!"

"What you tell him?"

Ever since Tess left, I'd been keeping my secrets to myself, and I just couldn't carry them anymore. I didn't _want_ to. So I sat at the table and peeled an orange while I muttered my confession. "The whole reason Tess and I started Freaks wasn't for the money or even for the thrill of it… We started Freaks because we needed to get the attention of powerful people. I don't just mean people with money; we needed people with _connections_. And we worked really hard at it. I don't know if you know this or not, but we sold Freaks to the Hellfire Club. Specifically, we dealt with Sebastian Shaw. I know who he is, Papa. I know what he's done, and I wanted to help him. We… Tess and I… I gave Shaw the information on X-Force. He put it out there. Now people are afraid of the X-Men. That's the reason why the school was attacked. That's the reason for all those deaths, and for Nate… That's why I had to go on television – to put my face out there. I put us all at risk, but I thought it would be worth it." My head hung so low that my chin rested on my chest. "I wanted to tell you. I wanted so badly just to talk to _someone_."

"Why you do dis, _catin_?" he finally asked in a soft voice.

"Mr. Summers doesn't deserve the X-Men. He's become a tyran. And when he went after Rogue and Bishop… That was the last straw for me."

"Why didn't you say somet'ing? We coulda moved."

"Why should we?" I challenged him, rising like a snake. "Why should I have to give up my school and home? Why should you have to leave a job you love? _He's_ the problem! Not us!"

There was a strange glow in his eyes that gave away _his_ secret.

He knew.

He'd known all along.

"You t'ink I'm gonna be angry? I ain't. Dis place ain't what it use t' be. If you can see dat, I oughta be able t'. I'm sorry you couldn't talk t' me. I woulda helped. You ain't gotta carry dis alone."

My heart broke, and I ran to hug him.

"You're not angry I gave you the Elixir?" I said into his chest.

He kissed my head. "You talk like I carry a grudge on everyt'ing. Life too short for all dat, _petite_."

"Well… It is for _one_ of us."

.

_To Be Continued…_

.


	4. Intermission: Letters from France

**Disclaimer: **I do not own.

**Author's Notes: **This chapter is a very quick summary of how Honor, Belle and Remy spent the summer as portrayed through their letters and postcards. After so many long chapters, I figured it was time for a breather. I was loathed to post this chapter since doesn't allow for different font styles. The handwriting styles lend themselves to better story-telling – I think you get a better impression of mood and personality. I did the best I could with what I had to work with, so I hope you enjoy. Last but not least, thank you so, SO much for all the kind reviews. I can't tell you how encouraging it's been. Honestly, I haven't read nicer reviews anywhere, so thank you!

**The Ballad of Honor and Tess**

**Intermission: Letters from France**

Dear Momma,

You don't need to worry about Jean-Luc and Marguerite spoiling me. Apparently, it was all a façade to get me here. They've got this old house out in the country, & it's just beautiful. Luc says it's been featured in several magazines, & it's over a hundred years old. He wasn't lying about the gardens.

You wouldn't believe the amount of work that's gone into these gardens. Marge says that someone decided two hundred years ago where to plant the trees and which shrubs to cultivate. It's got a very man-infused beauty… Little path ways & what not.

Oh, & it was lovely until they told me I'd be working out there every day. No joke! I barely got my fingers back, and this horrible old man is putting me to work! And not just any work – manual labor. The sun's hot and I'm miserable, so I knew it'd make you happy to know.

Love,

Honor

_Dear Honor,_

_I don't know what you told your momma, but she wants you to stay in Lons-le-Saunier all summer. Hope that's what you were going for._

_We made it to Valle Soleada. You can reach us at this address. We're staying at the same place you and Johnny found us. The twins love it here. We go to the beach every day, & they're turning brown. If you were out here, we'd have to keep the lotion & aloe handy._

_There's no telling what's going to happen with the X-Men at the end of the summer. Don't concern yourself too much with it, but I want to know what you'd think about moving to California._

_Write me about the house and gardens; I want to know how much your grandfather embellishes._

_Rogue & the petites send their love._

_All my love,_

_Papa_

Dear Papa,

Jean-Luc wasn't joking about the scenery. This is probably one of the prettiest places I've ever seen. The garden has little cobble-stone walk-ways and shallow pools with coy fish. The trees were deliberately planted and maintained so that they form tunnels and gates. There are a few little flowers, but it's mostly just lush greenery.

Marguerite told me this house was a gift from her oldest son's father. She's quite a character; I wish you could know her better. You'd really like her.

In the evening time, we sit in the garden and eat supper together. There's little white Japanese lanterns around the backyard. Sometimes we listen to old jazz music on one of those wind-up players. The air here has a different smell from anything I've ever smelled. It's clean and soft and pretty like a flower.

Marguerite loves to tell stories, and she's very good at it. She told me about her oldest son, Guillaume. His father is a British millionaire, and he's much older than Margie. When they met, she was just nineteen and a singer at her uncle's establishment. He was on vacation, and looking for a good time. After she got pregnant, he offered to marry her, but she declined. So he bought her this big, beautiful house instead.

Her second son is Charles. His father is a Saudi aristocrat, and he offered to marry her, too. But he had three wives then, and she didn't want to share a man. It's a pretty sad story, actually, because Charles' father was never involved in his life. He never gave her any money or anything.

Right before his father died, she and Charles got a letter in the mail saying how sorry he was for everything. Saying the only reason he cut Charles out of his life was to keep his wives happy, but none of them ever gave him a son. And the old fart left everything to Charles, but of course he declined. He made sure his father's wives and daughters were set for life.

And then there's Mona, the youngest. Margie had her when she was thirty-five because that's the cut-off year in France. The doctors say it's bad to have a child older than that, and Margie really wanted a daughter.

Mona's father is Italian. He was eighteen when he met Mona's mother, and it's pretty funny to hear Marge talk about him. "The things I taught him!" and all that. Makes me blush!

Sorry this letter turned out to be so long.

Tell me what you're doing this summer.

Love,

Honor

Dear Honor,

I'm sorry it's taken so long to get back to you. I've taken up a bookkeeping job for a lawyer's office. It's different. When I come home at night, it just doesn't feel like home without you & your father. I miss my evenings with Rogue, too. Hero still isn't speaking, so I'm taking her to a doctor. Lena says I worry too much – she knows children who didn't speak well until they were three. But she's eighteen months now, and hasn't said a word. I know she isn't deaf, so I don't know why she won't talk. I'll let you know what happens. If France gets to be too much, just let me know and I'll get you home. Have you met Mona yet? Has Luc taken you to see the city? You can't leave until you've visited Paris.

Love you,

Momma

P.S. How are you writing with the blindfold?

_Dear Honor,_

_I knew Marguerite had to be a gem to catch Jean-Luc's eye. I'm glad you're getting a chance to bond with them. Don't tell your momma that girl's got three children by three different men and never been married. Not that anyone cares what she thinks, but you know how she is._

_Has Mona flown in yet? _

_My days out here are pretty simple. Wake up, make breakfast, run around with Ollie & Becks, Rogue gets up & we head down to the beach. Sometimes we run into people we know, & they ask about you. It's a quiet little town, and I know it doesn't fit you anymore than it fits me._

_But Rogue's happy here._

_To stretch my legs, I ride into the next town over. Can't put into writing what I do for fun, but you fill in the blanks._

_Don't mention this to your momma, but we got the petites reading. Dr. Seuss and Winnie the Pooh – nothing to difficult. Amazes me, really. Beast said not to tell them they can't do something, & they can do anything. He was right. I know you're busy, but if you'd write them, they'd be beside themselves._

_We think about you every day._

_Find myself star-gazing. Never did that before._

_All my love,_

_Papa_

Dear Ollie & Becca,

Your Sissy misses you very much. Papa says you go to the beach every day. I'm not at the beach. I'm at Jean-Luc's garden in France.

I hope you will write back.

Hugs and kisses,

Honorita

Dear Papa,

Mona finally got here. I'm kinda glad I've got this blindfold still on – I didn't have to make eye-contact. She's so pretty. She's tall w/ wide hips and narrow limbs. She's got this beautiful black hair that kinda swooshes over one eye. And here I am – stupidly short hair that I can't do anything with. Blindfold like an old lady, and crooked fingers. My fingers use to be so pretty. To make it worse, she's so nice. She likes to practice her English with me, and she's excited about taking me into the city to meet her French friends.

We work in the gardens together, and she flirts with the help. Jean-Luc and Marguerite think its funny when she does. Let me try to scrub the fountains without my shirt on, and see how quick I'm on a plane!

I've put some thought into moving to Valle Soleada. Honestly, I think you already know how I feel. But besides me – Momma's got a job in NY now; the X-Men have bonded to the little ones, and vise versa. My biggest worry is keeping the family together. I don't want Rogue to feel like she doesn't matter, but I don't want to have to choose between you and Momma, either.

I've read that the X-Men are in big trouble. They might even have to relocate to the west coast. That wouldn't have anything to do with your dilemma, would it? You know how I feel about XM, too. I wish we could just have a few problems like everyone else.

Let me go. I shouldn't be writing when I'm in such a sour mood.

Love you lots,

H

Dear Honor,

Jean-Luc must have you slaving away if you're too busy to write your poor old mother! The doctors say there's nothing wrong with Hero. Meaning, there's no physical ailment preventing her from speaking. Next they want to check for mental ailments, which pisses me off more than a little. She's not stupid. I'm so lonely that I let Lena set me up on a blind date. If you want details, I expect a letter.

Sincerely,

Your poor, pathetic, lonely old crone of a mother.

Dear Momma,

Sorry I forgot to write. Papa asked me to write the twins to help encourage them to read more. I guess I wrote two letters and just forgot.

I don't have my eyes, but I'm able to use my physic powers to read and write.

I've been worrying a lot about Hero. I'm sorry it got so bad that you had to ask someone else for help. Doctors are crooks, you & I know that. Maybe you should take her to Dr. McCoy. It's very possible she's a mutant and somehow her powers are crippling her. You remember when I was little and use to have those visions? A regular doctor would've said I was making it up.

To answer your previous letter – yes, the guest of honor made it.

Mona's a lot of fun, but I feel a little uncomfortable around her, too. She's in her element here, and I'm not. I don't know anyone. I barely know Jean-Luc.

She's gorgeous, too. I wish he'd warned me.

I mean, I've got no hair and deformed fingers, and this stupid blindfold. God only knows what my eyes will look like when this thing comes off. Best case scenario: they're still black and red.

At least she's nice. Honestly, I kinda wish she was a bitch so I'd have a reason to hate her.

But omg – you had a date? Do you realize you just put reality in danger as we know it? Now someone's going to have to travel back in time and risk their life to retrieve a crystal just to make things right again.

What'd you wear? Did he take you somewhere nice?

Was he tall, dark and handsome?

Don't skimp on the details, no matter how awful. I've got nothing to do but help Mona practice her English and work outside.

Love,

Honori

_Ma cherie tite fille,_

_Why you call yourself ugly? You break your poor Papa's heart. You don't need hair or eyes or tits or anything else to be pretty. You're the most beautiful girl I've ever known, and trust me, I've known a lot of beautiful girls._

_You just think you look terrible 'cause that's how you feel. All you've got to look at is your mind, and it's got you down._

_Once you get that blindfold off, you'll remember how gorgeous you are._

_Thank you for writing the petites. It meant so much to them. Their little faces lit up and they spent all morning on it. You'd think they found the Rosetta stone._

_You're right about XM. They're moving to San Fran and cutting combat options from the school. That means Rogue's out of a job unless we move with the team. We've talked about it and decided to resign. Both of us. We've seen what Cyke's had to give up for Xavier's dream, and we decided it's not what we want. But that doesn't mean moving to CA's out of the question._

_I don't, chere, we're really happy here. For the first time in my life, everything's falling right into place._

_All my love._

Dear Honor,

Jealously is a horrible look on you. I hope you don't talk to Jean-Luc or Mona that way. I'd die of shame. You're a very pretty girl. More than that, you're lucky to be alive. You're lucky to have your eyes and your fingers, and your hair will grow back! You're just gonna have to deal with this awkward time, just like I had to deal with being fat and moody to bring you into this world. Ungrateful brat that you turned out to be!

My date's name was Pransu Patel, and yes, he was tall, dark and not bad-looking. Lena use to work for him, and when she first mentioned it, I wouldn't hear of it. But she persisted. 'He's from arranged marriage, you're from arranged marriage. Match made in heaven!' He was late, forgot to hold the door for me, and for a long time, he only talked about his ex and sons. I was about to leave in the middle of dinner. Not to be rude, but it was obvious he's not over her. But before the end of the night, things turned around. He's a lawyer, and he loves his job and his family. They come from India, so we both love spicy foods. He's not perfect. I can't say I'm head-over-heels for this guy – he's got a lot of baggage. But it's a fun way to spend a Saturday night.

Hero moved a picture of you into a room. I thought about what you said, and I'll take her to see a mutant pediatric. I'll let you know what happens there.

Love from NY,

Momma

Dear Momma,

Great news – the blindfold came off, and I'm not blind!

Papa's been talking about moving to California. I don't wanna move, but I don't want him to leave, either. If I didn't live in NY, New Orleans would be my second choice. CA isn't even appealing to me. What should I say to him?

That's very sweet about Hero. She can't read, so I can't send her a letter, but I want her to know I think about her, too. Maybe I should send her a souvenir? We're planning a trip to Paris soon. Don't worry about pictures. Mona was born with a camera in her hand. It's what she wants to do for a living, although she's good at many things.

I got to meet her friends – Fabian, Leon, and Delphine. I think Fabian is her boyfriend, although with her it's hard to tell.

I miss my friends. I know you wanted me to get away, and I'm really making an effort to be nice, but I can't help it. I miss Renegade's jolly self and Uri's jokes. Sometimes I worry myself sick about Nate. Have you heard anything new?

Do me a favor and send poor Pransu some flowers. I know you think you're supposed to be vinegar to every man who likes you, but let's try a different approach this time. Oh, and throw out that stupid old dress you wore. Buy yourself something with cleavage.

Pretend you're Rogue!

Love,

Honor

XOXO XOXO

Becca OLLie

Dear Papa,

Great news – I'm not blind!

Mona and her friends were shocked to see my true eye colors, but I think they're more offended by the fact that I'm "American" than the fact that I'm a mutant. There's Leon, Delphine and Fabian – her boyfriend. We drive up to the city and go to these house parties. There's a cover charge, which is used to bribe the Landlady to look the other way for all the noise. It's just a little band – a piano, bass and drums – and about a hundred people crammed into a little room.

You'll never believe this! But the last one, we heard Johnny Depp sing! Johnny Depp, Papa! He smiled at me!

O, I can die a content woman now.

Mona's friends aren't my friends, but we all get along. Delphine and I are more than friends, but don't say anything, please. Momma'd be over here in a minute, and anyone else might tell Tess.

I had this horrible dream about her. She was trying to seduce Mr. Shaw, but he turned her down because she's underage. Maybe that little piece of information should comfort me, but it doesn't. It's been making me sick, but I'm trying very hard not to think about it. Of course, I just end up thinking about her even more.

JL & Marg are taking us to Paris tomorrow. I'll send you guys lots of pictures!

Love,

Honor

P.S. If Momma asks, Mona & I visit museums!

Dear Honor,

You think you're so cute. You & your father both. I'll have you know, any good relationship I ever had was ruined because I rushed into things. I'm not rushing this. I'm sure he knows what breasts look like!

Now that's out of the way, I've got good news, too. We know why Hero doesn't speak. She's deaf. I didn't believe them at first. I didn't take her to Dr. McCoy, he's still on his honeymoon. Dr. Reyes referred me to Dr. Johannes, who diagnosed her. Sure enough, she can't hear. The reason she responds when called and dances to music and wakes up at loud noises is because of a mutation which compensates for her not being able to hear. They don't know yet if she's telepathic or physic or something else. In a way, it's a relief. I know she's not touched, and it's not cause I did something wrong. But I'm down about it, too. I'll never hear her speak.

O, don't let me wallow around for myself.

I have heard news on Nate and its not good or else I'd pass it along. If you'd like to help, pray for him.

You want advice on your father? Just let him do what he's going to do. If he & Rogue wanna move to CA, you can't stop'm. I have no intentions of moving on his account. I don't want you to feel like you're being forced to "choose" b/c you aren't. Its clear to me that he's running out. He's got his own life now, you've got yours, too.

I keep you in my prayers.

Momma

P.S. Send your little sister a picture.

_Dear Honor,_

_Glad to hear you're back to your right self. I wouldn't pay no mind to Tess, since she's moved on. Believe it or not, I know how you're feeling. It's the worst thing in the world, and I'd do anything to make you feel better. But I can't. That's the worst part about being a parent. My advice is to keep living your life. You never really get over your first love, but that's no reason to spend the rest of your life in mourning. Your momma never understood that. Her & Mercy both._

_I know __exactly__ what goes on at those "house parties". You & Mona better make sure you never accept a drink you didn't pour, and you better leave together. But unless Jean-Luc's delirious w/ old age, he's not as blind as you think._

_Not only will I __not__ tell your momma, I'm gonna keep this from Rogue, too._

_You're gonna love Paris! I was seventeen the first time I went, and it's tailor-made for you. The food, the music, the scenery – you never wanna leave. But if you don't come back soon, you might get more than a letter from Valle Soleada._

_All my love, _

_Papa_

Dear Papa & Momma,

You were right about not wanting to leave Paris! I think it's gotta be one of my favorite places in the whole world!

We spent a week there, and I was begging to stay.

JL got us this super fancy hotel, and we spent the whole first day just shopping. He bought some jewelry for Margie, and gifts for the family. Mona and I got to try on the prettiest gowns you've ever seen. Honestly, it was the first time in a very long time that I actually felt pretty. The one I got is gold chiffon, and Mona got a blue, strapless one. That's what we wore to the Opéra Garnier – most beautiful place ever!

Every night, we had five-star meals, and in the morning, it was fresh beignets and crapes. We saw all the usual attractions – the Tower, Notre Dame, the Louvre… And some lesser-known attractions, too.

We went to the club where JL & Marge met. Remember I told you she use to sing? Same place. She owns it now, but it makes enough money that she never actually has to work there. I hate to call it a "club" because its so nice. They play jazz music and serve drinks. Some people smoke and play cards, too – that's what JL was doing here about four years ago.

He was losing – bad. Marge just happened to be there. She said she sometimes flirts with the high rollers to encourage them, so she started making eyes with Luc. He asked her to hold his cards for him w/o looking at them. He was trying to turn his luck around, and it worked. He totally cleaned the guy out. The man even lost his wedding ring to Luc. He picked up that ring and purposed to Marge w/ it. She accepted, and a week later, they were married. It's so ridiculous and romantic, isn't it?

One morning during breakfast, some street urchin boy started serenading Mona & me. JL ran him off in a hurry, but I thought it was kinda sweet. He called us "Beaux Deux".

I can't believe would think I'm beautiful, especially next to Mona. But I've found people think I wanted my hair this short, which is daring and alluring. I'm gonna rock this mess. Yeah! I wanted a boy's hair cut! (Actually, Oll's hairs probably longer than mine now.)

I feel terrible, going on about myself.

How're you guys?

Love,

Honor

P.S. Pictures enclosed

Dear Honor,

Doubt you're back from Paris yet, but there's been some news. I only want you to read this once you're alone. After you've read it, you can call or come home if you need to. I've spoken to your father, and I believe he's got his heart set on re-locating to California. He might change his mind yet, but I doubt it. Apparently, he never really wanted to leave. Now that the team's moving out west, he'll be closer to the twins' godparents in Valle Soleada. He'll likely change his mind and want to move again in the next few years, but Rogue's setting up home. They've been house hunting. Rogue's taking a teaching job. Ollie's started taking karate lessons, and Becks is in gymnastics. I'm sorry to tell you all this. I know how you must feel. I'm not happy about it, either. Take some time to think about what you'd like to do.

But I've got good news, too. The doctors have stalled the spread of Nate's virus. They can't repair the damage already done, but it's good news. If they can keep it from spreading any more, he could come home. But please don't get your hopes up. That's a very far way away.

Scott's come to some sort of under-handed deal with the authorities. He's re-locating with the team, but leaving the school. Without an apparent heir (Emma's moving w/ him) – its really up for grabs. I suppose Mr. Xavier could return, but he's so old now. I try to avoid that whole cluster-luck.

Pransu asked if he could see me again, and I didn't say no.

He found a Cajun restaurant for us to try, but the food was awful and filled w/ meat. (I thought your friends were picky eaters. He can't eat anything w/ meat!) He's really trying, poor thing. Twice he stopped himself from discussing Purv – his ex-wife. I suppose I should learn the rules of rugby or something. I'm really too old for this non-sense.

Love,

Momma

Dear Jean-Luc & Marguerite,

I got back to NY in one piece. Thank you for letting me spend the summer w/ you. I know this sounds incredibly corny, but I really will cherish the memories we've made. I love you like my family.

I hope to meet Charles and Guillaume one day. And maybe one day you could meet my friends State-side.

Send Mona my warmest regards,

Honor


	5. Just Visiting

**Disclaimer: **I do not own.

**Author's Notes: **In this chapter, Honor effectively experiences her parents' divorce. Yeah, yeah, they've been divorced for years… But not really. Now Rogue's starting to take more control in the family. Even though Honor doesn't see it directly, the result is a rift between Gambit and Belle that extends throughout the entire family. Not that Rogue is being selfish, necessarily, but that's why divorce sucks! Even if everyone does everything right, someone still gets hurt. Honor's always had the benefit and misfortune of being subject to her parents' decisions, but now she's put in the position where she has to make a lot of choices and deal with the consequences. There isn't a lot of Tess this time – she only makes a brief appearance at the end, but don't worry, she'll be more active in later chapters.

**The Ballad of Honor and Tess**

**Just Visiting**

A hundred or so people unloaded from Flight 419 into the JFK terminal. Among the masses moved a young woman, appearing to be seventeen years old. Actually, she was approaching her fifteenth birthday. She was beautiful – tall and full-figured with short-cropped strawberry-blonde hair. But she was alone. She moved her sunglasses to her crown, revealing eyes the color of onyx and ruby. A woman gasped and moved away, but she was used to it. With clearer vision, she scanned the crowd.

"There she is!" someone said.

Twenty feet away stood the last person she ever expected to see.

Nate Summers.

Both hands and one arm were completely metallic, as was an eye and probably other parts she couldn't see: causalities of the Legacy Virus. How he'd gotten through security, she'd never know. But he was _alive_. And well. Honor couldn't help herself. She grinned and ran to him like a child on Christmas morning. He didn't disappoint her. His arms accepted her and lifted her effortlessly off her feet.

"Nate!" She took his face in her hands. "You're all right!"

"Back at you," he smiled.

Honor's mother, Belle, interrupted them with a hug. Shortly after, little Hero grabbed Honor's leg. The taller daughter lifted her little, brown sister and carried her all the way to the car.

.::.

Coming home was a rude awakening. In France, I'd been pampered and waited on hand-and-foot. Jean-Luc denied me nothing – not his time or money or affections. For two months, I didn't fold a single article of clothing, wash a single dish or lift a single child. He gave Mona and me chores outside, but we really didn't _work_. We sat beside the walkway and watched the gardeners do everything. And he only _asked_ me to do that stuff because my parents insisted on it. Exercise and diet were still crucial to my mental health. Now, I found myself being forced to unpack my own things, wash my own clothes, and help my mother prepare for my own homecoming party.

"I knew dat man would spoil y' rotten!" She snapped at my first complaint. "Now I've gotta spend a _week_ tryin' t' re-train you!"

Nate carried my bags, and Renegade helped me dust my room. But Momma was bitchier than usual.

"She ain't invalid!" She'd gripe at them. "Her fingers ain't broke no more, cher; let 'er do it."

"What's her deal?" I asked Renegade once she was out of ear-shot.

He shrugged. "She ain't been like dis all summer. Just since you got 'ere."

I went to my closet and pulled out some outfit candidates. I laid out a pink sundress, a pair of brown slacks, blue jeans and black leggings, a halter top and a tank top.

"Momma's gonna have a _fit_ you walk out in one a' those," Renegade said regarding my shirt selections.

I ignored him and started pairing up outfits.

"When's Papa's plane get in?"

He didn't consider Gambit his father anymore than I considered Rogue my mother, but he knew who I meant. Suddenly, he looked very uncomfortable.

I stopped my process and looked at him. "He's already here?" I asked. He must've seen how disappointed I was.

"'E wanted t' take de twins t' see de new school. Been completely remodeled since de attack."

"Didn't he know when my plane landed?"

Renegade looked away.

I excused myself, not wanting him to see me cry. I gracefully left my little tower at the far end of the house and made my way through Manor LeBeau. I heard Momma in the kitchen and Lena setting the table. Some furniture in the living room had been replaced and then re-arranged, as if I wouldn't notice my father had moved out. Most notably, Rogue's green rocker was gone. I peaked in Renegade's room. He'd hung up posters of nearly-nude women and sports stars. Dirty laundry littered the floor. I crinkled my nose and thought '_We're cleaning the wrong room!_' The twins' room was completely empty. Only the chair railing along the blue and purple walls remained. Papa and Rogue's room was also empty. Nothing in the closet or bathroom. They hadn't even left the curtains.

I went out on the balcony.

Rogue's balcony.

She'd specifically requested it because she missed being able to fly. I suppose since she could fly again, she wouldn't miss anything about this house now…

I went to my mother in the kitchen. She was peeling potatoes with her back to me and her face in the sunlight. People said we looked very similar, although I inherited my father's eyes. I got his personality, too. Ironically, I saw nothing of myself in either one of them. I approached her and hugged her from behind. For the first time all day, she relaxed.

"I missed you," I said.

She turned around and took me in her arms.

We're both freakishly tall, but she's taller. In fact, she's the _only_ woman I'd ever met who was taller than me (except the late immortal Candra). It made me feel safe…

"You can cheer up," I told her, "I'm not moving to Valle Soleada."

She was still holding me when the tears fell.

"I'm sorry, _chere_. I _try_ t' make t'ings work wit 'm. But I ain't movin' for 'm. Not again."

"Neither am I."

…

I decided to wear the pink sundress with black leggings to dinner. When Hero saw what I was wearing, she indicated to Momma that she wanted to change into her pink dress, too. The outfit was normally for church, but of course Momma obliged her. Renegade helped me style my hair into a mohawk, which I was initially weary about. But my hair was too short to do much with, and the style received positive feedback. Even Momma smiled at it. Papa said Tante Ro use to have one, and he took a picture of it for her. He and Rogue never apologized for making me wait. In fact, they kept their visit very cordial. We never talked about what they were doing to the family. Instead, we discussed how Xavier Academy had changed. Since Mr. Summers and Ms. Frost-Summers moved to San Francisco, the new Headmaster was Sean Cassidy. I'd never met him personally, but he was a long-time beau of Dr. MacTaggert. I thought very highly of the Muir Island geneticist, so he couldn't be all that bad. In addition to removing the combat training option from the curriculum, Mr. Cassidy was also allowing non-mutant children to attend.

"I don't know why anyone would want to attend Xavier unless you're a mutant," I said, "It'd be like me wanting to join an all-boys school. I just don't see the point."

"T' be politically correct," Papa supplied while lighting up a cigarette.

"No, now that ain't true," countered Rogue, "Hank says students pay attention in class better when they have a variety of peers. Who's to say this won't work out?"

"Did you guys find a house yet?" I asked them boldly.

They hadn't given me this piece of information. I'd gotten it from my mother, but since I possessed psychic powers, they couldn't know. Rogue had the grace to look ashamed, but Papa was proud.

"_Oui_. We found somet'ing we really like, but ain't nothin' final. It big enough f'r you, if you wanna move."

"I don't. Especially not to California."

Momma cleared her throat. "Johnny's movin' t' New York," she said brightly.

Now this _was_ a surprise!

Johnny Sanchez, international superstar, had been my godfather since he was just Juan-Heriberto de Sanchez. After he hit the big time, he'd had to move to L.A. Of course, between tours and promotions and recordings, he wasn't anywhere for too long.

"Why's he moving here?" I asked.

"Producin' a new band. Invited us t' hear dem perform."

"_Producing_?" I was very impressed. "He's really moving up, isn't he?"

Becca crawled into my lap and sat like a puppy. I patiently put my arms around her while Momma went on: "He's very enthusiastic 'bout it, _chere_. Says you gave 'm credibility. De bank t'inks he's got an eye f'r talent."

Hero was jealous of Becca being so close to me, so she grabbed my hand and tried to get my attention.

"Not now, baby sister," I shooed her away. Then, to my mother: "Is it a blues band?"

"_Non_. R&B, I t'ink its called. I ain't heard dem, but-"

"Not _now_, Hero!" I snapped at the little blonde girl who was still tugging at my hand.

She stuck out her bottom lip and her big, violet eyes welled with tears.

"Come on, Hero," Ollie stepped in and took her little hand in his. "Sissy doesn't wanna play. I'll play wit' you."

He led her upstairs and Becca followed.

"Gawd! And just went ya ain't got a camera!" Rogue punched the table.

Renegade leaned towards me and said quietly, "She really miss you while you away. She ain't got a playmate like de twins. You should be nice t' her. You all she got."

"No, she's got _you_." I was more than a little irritated. It seemed like everyone always wanted _more_ from me.

"Hey," Nate interrupted, "I've got news, too. Good news and bad news. The good news is-"

"You alive?" Renegade offered.

"_The good news is_ I'm not moving to Alaska. The bad news is, I'm moving to Canada. My mom took up a job with a commercial flight company, and that's where they want her."

"What're you gonna do?" I asked.

He shrugged. "You know I spent a lot of time in the hospital lately. I thought I was gonna die there. The way people treated me, the doctors and the nurses, it really stuck with me. Some of them thought I was a danger and disgusting, but some of them were really great. And you know, my mom didn't have anyone there with her. The hospital staff really set the tone for what could've been my final days. So I've been thinking I'd like to enroll in a medical school."

"Wow. Really?" I gushed. "Nate! That's so _cool!"_

"There's a college-"

Suddenly, something cold and wet hit the back of my neck. Like urine, it trickled down my back and stuck to my clothes. I only had time to arch my back and yelp before I was hit again, this time from the left. And _again_ – from the right! The kiddies had loaded up some water guns and were soaking me. They were _punishing_ me for refusing to play with them! More shocking, their attack was organized. Ollie was in the lead and the girls were half-hidden behind the corners. They were just out of my sight until the attack.

"Not in de house!" Momma bellowed as water spilled on the table and tile floor.

Undeterred, they rushed into the room and ambushed me, getting better shots. I could see their little faces clearly – all smiles and laughter. They were _mocking_ me. I ran after Ollie to unarm him, and he ran into the living room.

"I said – _not in de house!"_ Momma shouted again.

"Petites, dat's enough!"

All their threats were in vain. The girls followed us and continued to fire on me. As Ollie ran back up the stairs, I slipped in a puddle and landed on my ass. Ok. Playtime was _over!_ I leapt over Ollie's head and landed in front of him, neatly on the stair case. He only had time to aim before I snatched the gun and pushed him back. His little body rolled helplessly with gravity. Before he hit the bottom, I was back in the living room. The girls were retreating into the kitchen, where my _useless_ parents waited. I sprinted after them. I reached out, intending to snatch them. However, Becca tripped and slid into the kitchen, missing the wall by inches. I did grab Hero, and snatched her gun. Holding her mid-air by the back of her dress, I proceeded to fire at her without mercy.

"You think it's _funny_?" I shouted, "Is it funny _now_?"

Three toddlers in the house: and _all_ of them wailing. Three parents: and _all_ of them livid.

"What's _wrong_ with you?" Rogue hollered, cradling Ollie as best she could. "He coulda gotten seriously hurt!" He was red-faced with his fists in his eyes. Her yelling only upset him more, but she couldn't help herself. It was the first time Rogue was ever really pissed off at me.

"Why you push her?" My father boomed, holding a wet-faced Becca. "You _lucky_ she didn't hit dat wall! You t'inks its _funny_?" He jeered at me, pushing my chest with his free hand. He was trying to provoke me into a fight while holding his other daughter.

"You get your hands off her!" Momma leapt between us. She'd left Hero crying on the floor. "I _told_ dem not to use dem t'ings in de house! Dey _all_ deserve a beatin'!"

When she said that, the three of them wailed even louder.

"A beatin'? Fine!" He shouted back. "But she doesn't get t' _push_ 'm down de stairs and _t'row_ dem int' walls and _drown_ dem!"

"If you had stepped in sooner, she wouldn'ta done dem t'ings! For _GODSSAKE_, Hero Marius! Dat's _enough_! _Upstairs_! T' your room!"

No one cradled or comforted her. She picked herself up all alone and ran silently to her room.

"Shoulda stepped in sooner wit' _all_ my youngins!" Papa directed his sight at me. "Beatin' up on _babies_! What de hell's gotten int' you!"

"Don't worry!" I shot back, "You just got yourself one less _youngin'_ to tend to!"

I ran upstairs and slammed the door behind me, ignoring his taunts.

.::.

The school year resumed in September, and I was eager to see the changes for myself. The most visible change was the stadium, which was still closed off for all the damage done earlier that summer. A terrorist group known as the Friends of Humanity bombed the stadium full of children and parents, leaving a total of twenty-nine dead. Rather than add their names to the Phoenix memorial, a new statue was erected with their names on the bricks along the ground. Since this was my Junior year, I didn't know most of the students anymore. However, the student population had increased by a third – and a quarter of the newbies were non-mutants. A lot of the students were new faces: unknown by anyone. But the biggest change was the switch in staff. All the teachers I'd grown attached to and admired – Logan, Tante Ro, Ms. Pryde, Rogue, Papa, Dr. McCoy, and Ms. Frost – were all in California now. Additionally, Mr. Wagner had been killed and Bishop exiled. I really had no one left.

"Good morning, Juniors," said Mr. Cassidy: our new headmaster and my new homeroom instructor. "I understand this is a big change for ye, but I'm glad t' see so many of ye returned."

A few students fawned over his Irish accent. He was young and slightly dashing with thick blonde hair and a strong jaw line. It was refreshing to have a male teacher after Ms. Frost-Summers.

"I have worked with Ms. Frost before, so I know a little of her teaching style. We are a little different, but I'm willing to work with ye if you're willing to work with me."

"Yeah," Uri interrupted, "It's gonna be a real challenge having to make eye contact when we speak to you."

…

I quickly adjusted to the changes in New York. Of course, I missed all my old friends, but missing them wouldn't bring them back. And turns out, some of my new friends were also my old friends… Like Aimee Duvall, who I'd met back on Muir Island. She was our new nurse and guidance counselor. Also, Julian Keller, who'd been a senior superstar back when I was a newb, was now our English instructor.

"Honor LeBeau?" He called as I entered his classroom. "Whoa! You really grew up."

Slightly embarrassed that he'd drawn attention to me, I replied: "Only on the outside."

After English, Uri and I had French together with Mr. Beaubier. I glanced through the book and discovered we'd be "learning" some very basic vocabulary and sentence structure. Irritated, I raised my hand and bluntly said: "_Je parle déjà Francais_."

"_Vous savez l'anglaid, aussi. Ne vous exempte pas de la classe."_

I threw my head back and groaned. Was this why I'd chosen to remain in New York? To suffer through classes I could _teach_?

Mr. Beaubier had already given his introductory speech and was calling roll when a student stumbled through the door.

"I'm sorry for being late," she said immediately. "I couldn't find the room."

I looked at her and I couldn't breathe. She was _stunning_. This girl was tall and lean with sun-kissed sun and rich brown locks that curled and tussled over her shoulders. She wore blue jeans and a white blouse – as if dressing like a common person made her less striking! It didn't. Her brown eyes caught mine and she smiled. Her teeth were pearly white and perfectly even. Later, I'd hear people say her teeth were too large. I never thought so. I always thought she was the most beautiful person in the world.

I smiled back at her. My heart was pounding.

She quickly looked down and blushed.

"What's your name?" Mr. Beaubier asked her, oblivious to our moment.

She glanced at me and replied: "Giana Volpochino."

I kept an eye out for Giana Volpochino through Pre-Calculus with Mr. Cassidy, Microbiology with Ms. Sinclair, American History with Ms. Moonstar, study hall and keyboarding with Ms. Kincaid. If I wanted to see her again, I'd have to suffer through French. I couldn't even find her at lunch.

Uri, Renegade and I took our usual seats and divided up our bounty. As if our piles of untouched fruit and protein weren't bad enough, some of the Seniors and other Juniors mocked our fall from grace.

"_Hunter's missing a few dogs, aren't they?"_

"_Not so tough without their Tin-Man!" _

"_Watch out! They might call in the Canuck!"_

They would never have the nerve to jeer Logan to his face, and cowards weren't worth acknowledging. But not everyone is immune to wickedness. A new kid – a small boy with red skin, yellow eyes and little antlers – wandered helplessly from table to table, trying to find a seat.

"_Sorry – it's taken."_

"_You can't sit here!"_

"_This seat's reserved."_

I stopped him as he passed: "You can sit with us."

He sat as far as possible from us. Without once looking up from his tray, he proceeded to shake and then open his milk.

"Hey, I'm Uri. I'm a Junior. This is my best mate, Renegade, and his sister, Honor. And you are?"

Still avoiding eye contact, he said: "I didn't sit here to make conversation. I just want to eat."

The three of us exchanged surprised looks.

"Look, Red," said Renegade sweetly, "School's a lot like prison. You wanna make it t' freedom, you gotta get int' a gang. Dis ain't a bad gang t' have."

"I don't plan on going to prison," the kid said, "So I don't need practice."

Still looking at his food, he started eating very methodically. I noticed he picked out the seeds from his green beans and wiped his apple for a solid minute before setting it in a very particular place.

I poked his apple.

"Don't do that!" he snapped. He picked up the fruit and cleaned it again, this time with more vigor. "Do you have any idea how many disease-carrying pathogens live on your skin? If I don't keep my pattern that I've established… It's taken _years_ to perfect! And if I break it, I'll contract something-!"

"Good job," Renegade told me. "You invited the crazy one into our midst."

"We could probably go outside," Uri said quietly.

"He's not crazy," I told them irritably. "He's _autistic_."

They both looked at him with more than a little guilt.

"Don't call me that," he said. "Call me Saben."

.::.

I wasn't challenged in French, but I learned plenty about Giana Volpochino. She wasn't a mutant, but her father was very eager to send her to Xavier Academy. He was an Italian diplomat, and hoped the environment would make her more tolerant. We had so much in common. She and I were both from large, tight-knit families; we were both bi-lingual; we both enjoyed coffee…

"You _hate_ coffee," Momma reminded me with crossed arms while I dressed for our coffee-date.

Ok, so that last one was a lie.

"It's _Giana Volpochino!"_ I answered. "If she invited me to drink _horse piss_ with her, I'd go!"

I wore black leggings and a backless metallic shirt. (Tess always said my backside was my _best_ side.) But I brought a jacket just in case I was over dressed. Momma shook her head, but let me leave. Giana didn't disappoint: she wore blue jeans that hung very low on her hips, and a tiny New York Giants half-shirt with a plunging cleavage. And Renegade didn't think she was interested in women!

…

Apparently, my mother didn't think a girlfriend was reason enough to stay in French class. Unbeknownst to me, she made an appointment with Mr. Cassidy one day after school.

"She ain't bein' challenged. Why should m' child have t' endure a year a' learnin' her ABC's when she's readin' Dumas?"

"I understand your frustrations, Mrs. Boudreaux, but it's a requirement of the state. She has to take a foreign language to get her diploma. We offer Spanish or French; _both_ of which she speaks fluently."

"Can't you put her in honors or somet'ing?"

"She's already taking the advanced classes."

"Den I want a refund! 'Cause you ain't _teachin'_ her nothin'!"

Mr. Cassidy sighed. He realized now that Emma wasn't joking when she mentioned keeping an extra bottle of scotch just for the LeBeaus. "How about a compromise? If she'll be Mr. Beaubier's aid for the year, she can receive the credit for French One and Two. Then she won't have any more French classes. Is that agreeable?"

Momma didn't agree right away, but she did agree.

.::.

My birthday that year fell on a Saturday. I made plans to hear Johnny's new band with Momma, Renegade and Giana. Afterwards, the five of us (and Johnny's girlfriend Solie) would go out to dinner. I asked Momma to bring her "date" – she wouldn't call Pransu her "boyfriend" – but she declined.

"Ain't no way we're crossin' de broods!"

Papa and Rogue had just left, so I didn't expect them to come back. But that's just what they did.

"I'd never miss your birthday, _catin_!" He gushed.

I tried to fain rapture. Honestly, I was a little pissed. If we couldn't get two extra tickets, Renegade and Gi would be uninvited. And I'd really been looking forward to a smaller type of celebration. Somehow, Papa and Rogue seemed to fill up a room. Then we had the twins, too. Their constant need for attention cut into my piano practice time, and no one even cared. Oh, but Mr. Anderson would notice! Momma and I had been working on a new room for Hero – that came to a screeching halt! Suddenly, we were shuffling sleeping arrangements to try and make everyone comfortable. Lena had to run out and do some emergency grocery shopping. Everyone but my father was being inconvenienced by his decision!

"Wipe dat look off your face before I smack it off!" Momma told me after I learned Johnny couldn't get two extra tickets.

"It isn't _fair_, Momma! I wanted to take _Gi_!"

"Den take 'er," Papa said.

Momma and I were both startled. We hadn't realized he was right outside my door.

"Ain't no point in everyone changin' on my account. You take Giana and Renegade, like you plan. Rogue and I meet you for dinner."

"Sounds great!" I cried.

"_Non_!" Momma told me. "You bein' a _brat_, chere! It's your _birthday_! You spend it wit' your family first! And you see dat girl more den you see your Papa, anyway!"

"Whose fault is that?"

"So help me, Honor Julien, I will knock you int' next week!"

"Calm down," Papa said, stepping between us. "Belle, really. Honor's givin' up enough for me. _More_ den enough. I don't wanna take anyt'ing else away from her. She wanna go wit' her friends, let 'er go." Then, he said in a softer voice: "Try t' remember bein' dat age. You didn't want nothin' t' do wit' your parents, either. And you _punishin'_ her's only makin' it worse."

I saw Momma's violet eyes jump between his, as if trying to read him. I saw her resolve soften. Once more, she found herself weakening for my father.

"Fine," she said at last, "But I ain't goin' either."

"Momma-!"

"_Non_. Your father and I meet you for dinner."

…

If my parents had any idea what the club was like, they would never have let me go. It was probably for the best that they didn't come, after all. But that did make for awkward conversation with Giana.

"My parents just got caught up with something… But they're going to meet us for dinner afterwards."

"_Both_ your parents?" she asked slowly.

"Yeah."

"I thought your father lived in California?"

"He does. He just showed up unannounced. I know it's – it's stirring everyone up. I'm sorry. Please don't worry about it. He'll just _love_ you, really!"

She had planned on meeting Momma and Johnny, and that was terrifying enough.

"Your father… Gambit? The X-Man everyone talks about?"

"Please don't freak out about it!"

She didn't complain, but she did keep her champagne glass from ever being empty.

Johnny's new band was called '_Seda'_, and they were spectacular. The whole set-up was just perfect – the lighting, the club, the audience – it was all balanced just right. Johnny had always had a knack for being able to create a mood, and now he was able to apply that talent to someone else. Unfortunately, Gi was too drunk to enjoy it. I met the girls afterwards: Keisha, Toni and Memory. I liked that they didn't have a lead singer. They were all talented and shared the glory evenly. All three of them had strong personalities, but one in particular attracted me.

"What's you name again?" Keisha asked. She wore a white dress that exposed her mid-drift, thighs and arms. Since they more or less dressed identically, they styled their hair differently. Keisha had an afro and intense brown eyes.

I smiled. "Honor. Not _Anna_. Honor."

She smiled back, but slyly. "I saw you in the crowd. Even when I'm on the stage, you stand out."

I felt my face burn and said stupidly, "You've got a fantastic voice."

"Look… Johnny's setting up this party for us next weekend. I don't want it to be all business. Are you free?"

I didn't know what to say. This woman was gorgeous and I wanted to see her again, but Gi could be standing nearby and I wouldn't even know.

"Here's my number," she slipped a piece of paper in my hand. Her skin was surprisingly soft. "Don't write it on a bathroom stall."

Turns out, Giana wasn't standing anywhere _near_ me. She was throwing up in the bathroom, and had to take a cab home immediately after the concert. I wish I'd known that; I would've been more forward with Keisha. Instead, I got to make some more excuses to my parents about Gi's sudden absence.

"I don't know what happened," I said dumbly. "She was fine when we got there, but by the time we left, she was sick as a dog. She was throwing up and everything."

"Oh, _pauve ti bete_," Momma said sincerely. "Maybe we meet her another time…"

Johnny rented the entire restaurant for dinner, although we only had a party of eight. Apparently, when you're a big famous singer and producer, you do crazy stuff like that…

"How's Cassidy doin' wit' de school?" Papa always wanted to talk shop.

I asked Solie about her dress for the Grammys, but Momma answered my father in my place.

"Dey makin' her take French One."

"_Quoi_? Dat's just _insultin'_!"

"_Oui_. De first test, she didn't even _read_ de questions. Made it int' a game. Wanted t' see how many she could _guess_ blindly and get right. She made a 65."

My father's eyes glowed like a cigarette butt in a dark alley. "Why am I just hearin' about dis?"

Both my parents put education on high priority. Failing was unacceptable, and failing to _try_ was punishable by death via lecture.

"What you gonna do?" Momma challenged him. "You four t'ousand miles away. I handled it."

"Could we please _not?"_ I cried. "It's my birthday!"

"She's right," Rogue said, "This ain't the place. Let's just have a nice time, and we can catch up on school and friends tomorrow. Johnny, how long are ya plannin' on stayin' in the Big Apple?"

"At least a year. Maybe two_. Y tú_?"

"Just a week or two," she laughed.

"A week or two?" I repeated.

Fourteen days would ruin my whole life! The twins would keep me from practicing as often as I needed to. My fingers were on light-duty all summer. Mr. Anderson had been very patient, but if I didn't start taking piano seriously, he would quit me. Speaking of music… I could probably sneak out with Keisha with only Momma to deceive. But I'd never fool them both! Before my father moved, he and I had "date night" on Wednesday. Now that I had that night free, I'd started a fortune-telling class with some of the younger students. Being psychic wasn't really all that rare. A _good_ psychic was rare – but nearly everyone had some small gift they could cultivate. Undoubtedly, Papa would expect me to drop everything for him. And what about Momma? She had a real job now. She couldn't just stay at home and play hostess! Between trying to socialize with our kin and her bookkeeping job, she'd never get to see Pransu. And knowing Momma, she wouldn't gently blow him off.

"But-!"

Momma gave me a look, trying to quell my temper before it blew up.

I closed my mouth and lowered my eyes.

"Sorry we such a burden, _catin_," said Papa. "You don't want us here, we ain't gotta stay."

"How would you feel if Jean-Luc just showed up for a week or two?" I retorted. "Momma and I have _lives_ now! _Real_ lives that don't revolve and wait on _you_ anymore! And for the record – I never _wanted_ you to leave. But since you did, I've moved on. You expect our lives to rise and fall around you because that's what we did when you were here! But you're _not_ here. Things have changed!"

"I'm fine wit' t'ings changin'," he said quietly. "I knew I wouldn't always be de center of your universe. I just wanna be a part a' it."

Needless to say, my fifteenth birthday was far from care-free. I had expected my father's pride to dissolve at some point, and this was it. He made sure not to infringe on my life any more than he already had: the twins weren't allowed in my tower, and I never saw them without Rogue. He never asked for anything – not my time or attention or respect. When I left Wednesday night, I told him why. He understood, but was disappointed. I remembered all those times he left me for some top-secret mission: how hurt I'd been. Before he left again for California, he made sure to get me alone. It was Thursday night and I couldn't sleep. I had Tess on my mind. Silently, I went downstairs and made myself some tea. I had just curled up on the couch when he came downstairs.

"Can't sleep?" he asked.

"Guess not."

"T'ought you were over dat."

I shrugged and he sat down beside me.

"I didn't leave you," he said softly. I could hear the recent chain smoking in his throat. "I know you an' your Momma gave up a lot when you came t' New York. I got no right t' ask you t' do it again. But I hate not knowin' where you are every second a' de day. My life ain't complete 'less you in it."

"I miss you too, Pop. I guess _I'm_ just use to it."

It was strange. I felt the ground between us giving way to a canyon. The threads that once held us together were loose and weak. Would I ever see him as I once did? When two people constantly run from each other, there is no relationship. There must be at least one person willing to make all the compromises and sacrifices, but if it's only one person, is that _really_ a relationship?

At least things at school were going well.

Gi and Saben became regular faces at our lunch table. I still got the feeling that Saben only tolerated us for the protection we offered, but honestly, I didn't really like him, either. He was selfish and rude and had an obsessive habit for _everything_. But the little stinker grew on me. His strange humor was very much like Logan's, and that made him easier to understand. Giana helped me with my after-school psychic classes, even though she wasn't a mutant, and I went to her brother's football games. I still saw Keisha occasionally, but I really cared about Gi. I wanted us to be more than "dates".

I developed a comfortable rapport with Mr. Beaubier, too. He was slightly arrogant in the beginning, but I'd come to expect that with new teachers. Once he realized I wasn't disrespectful, he tried to be clever. At the risk of sounding like a broken record, I'm psychic. Lies and half-lies are wasted on me. Eventually, he felt comfortable enough to speak with me like an equal, and I came to regard him the same.

"I don't understand why you're worried," he told me while we quickly graded papers on afternoon. "You like her, right? She likes you. So you ask her to… go steady, or whatever you kids call it. Not like you're proposing marriage."

"Because the last person I dated was a telepath," I said. "She manipulated me so thoroughly… I'm _still_ not sure how I really feel about her or what she did. I don't wanna get backed into a corner again."

"Oh, I see. You're scared." He put the graded tests to the side and began recording the scores.

I moved on to correcting the quizzes. "I'm not _scared_."

"Yes, you are. You're scared. Once bitten, twice shy, baby."

"Everybody's a critic."

"Honestly, 'On, if I were you… Just take her out for coffee, tell her how much you like her, and tell her you want to be exclusive. _She's_ probably not the one dating other people, anyway. And after she agrees, tell yourself you're very lucky to have a girlfriend like that… 'Cause you are."

_Very lucky, very lucky, very lucky,_ I repeated to myself while waiting for Gi. The coffee shop was decorated for Halloween, which was a little more than a week away. I briefly thought about postponing this conversation, because that way, I could remember our anniversary. No. Don't be a chicken.

_Very lucky, very lucky, very lucky…_

"Oh, hey, 'On! There you are!"

And there she was: honey skin and chocolate hair with lips no one had ever kissed.

Giana and I had been good friends for several weeks now, and we'd been going out for coffee or a movie every week since we met. During that time, we'd talked about past relationships. She'd never dated any girl before me, but she hadn't dated many boys, either. This girl was a virgin – pure as snow. She said she wanted to save herself for marriage, but what virgin _didn't_ say that? I never pushed her for anything. The most we ever did was hold hands or brush feet, and as impossible as it sounds, I was fine with it.

Keisha, on the other hand… That girl was _insatiable_! Our first date was only the second time we'd met. We might've exchanged a dozen words each before she pulled me into a bathroom stall and made me feel alive all over. When she felt lonely – which was surprisingly often for a pop singer – she'd call. I'd meet her somewhere and we'd help each other out. But that's really all it was. I knew she was seeing other people, and she knew I was dating Giana.

The two of them together made the perfect woman. Giana: my intellectual friend, and Keisha: the incredible lover.

Why was I gambling everything on Gi?

"Are you okay, 'On?" She sat down and removed her jacket. "You don't look so good."

I was gambling everything on this girl because _I loved her_. And I just realized it when she sat down. She was looking at me with those big, sweet, brown eyes – so kind and naïve. My stomach churned and my heart raced. If I didn't tell her now, I would definitely chicken out. I might never tell her if I didn't say it now.

"Iloveyou," I blurted out.

She shook her head and closed her eyes like a butterfly had flown in her face.

"Come again?"

"I love you," I repeated. "You don't have to say it back. I know we just met. I – I wanted to say that I really like you… and I want us to be exclusive. You know - girlfriends. But when you sat down, I realized I don't like you. I love you. And I had to say it."

"I love you, too," she whispered, glowing like the sun. "I've loved you since the first day I saw you."

.::.

"_God, I've missed you so much," Tess whispered hotly against my ear. _

_Her fingers threaded through my hair, which was short and shaggy like a boy's. In turn, my hands grasped her waist. We fell together like a single pillar onto my bed. Shirts were pulled off, pajama bottoms followed, and finally panties were torn or shoved down the legs. How I had missed her sweet kisses, her soft breasts, her clever fingers and bony knees. I couldn't get enough of her. I took my usual place on top, holding her wrists against the mattress. When she looked up at me with her blue eyes bright with lust, I knew I wouldn't last long…_

_There was an alarm._

"_No," she whispered, "Not yet! I'm so close! God, I'm so close…"_

_The place between my legs burned and throbbed. Every thrust inched me higher and higher. We would climax together. We'd never done that before._

_But the noise was insistent._

I woke up in my bedroom, covered in sweat. After a moment of silence, my phone rang again and I cursed my luck. I was still very aroused, and when I sat up, the friction between my legs was enough to evoke an orgasm. I gasped and gripped the bed, completely taken by surprise. Was it really just a dream? Or was Tess exercising her telepathy?

I picked up my phone.

Keisha.

"I know it's late, honey, I'm sorry. I just can't sleep and I was wondering if I could see you."

"Keish, I… I met someone."

Silence.

"I'm sorry. I can't," I added.

"Is it serious?"

"Obviously."

A pause.

"Well," she said sadly, "If it ever doesn't work out, you know how to reach me."

I sat alone in the dark. I don't remember ever feeling more alone.

I went downstairs to make myself some tea and found my mother sitting at the table. She was surrounded by papers, which had been folded like a letter, and a single light illuminated her area.

"Oh. Hey, _chere_," she acknowledged me.

"Tea?" I moved to the stove.

"_Oui, merci_." She dropped her paper and sighed. "Honor Julien… What you t'ink 'bout visitin' N'awlins?"

…

Leaving my friends was difficult, but I wasn't leaving them forever. Of course, Renegade was coming with us. Uri promised to keep an eye out for Saben, and Gi promised to call every day. We would write them when we could, and planned to return before Thanksgiving. I was eager to see my family again. Except for Vaughn (who lived in Texas), I'd had no contact with the Guilds. However, Momma had stayed _very_ involved with Marie and the Council. Once I opened my eyes, I realized she'd never left them. She was reigning _for_ me from New York!

Shamed to say, I was in regency without even realizing it!

I left New Orleans a little more than a year ago. I was only thirteen, and had been matriarch less than a year. As usual, my parents were off living their own lives, and I was too proud to ask for help. Vaughn's father, Franco, got involved with an illegal gambling ring, and owed them more than he could pay. Too late, he tried to walk away from the Guild. When he came groveling back, I sent him packing. The sharks took what they could get from him – information and his sons – and used that to ambush us.

How many people had been killed or maimed on my account?

Only those closest to my family knew I was still alive. At least, that was true until I gave Ms. Tilby that interview. Now everyone knew I was alive and very well, and the Guild felt more than a little betrayed. After I sold Mutant Freaks, I sent the profit to the New Orleans Guild. But my olive branch was poorly received. Apparently, the treasurer was no friend to Clan Boudreaux. Instead of distributing the money where it was needed, he gave more to the wealthier clans. This served two purposes. One: it bought loyalty, plain and simple. Two: it made his enemies _my_ enemies. The lower clans were all part of Clan Daumier. They already begrudged me for ousting Franco (even though he ousted himself first!), and they assumed I had instructed the larger share to go to my family's allies. Now that no-good treasurer, Gaston Prideaux, was making a move for my throne. But of course, Momma and I weren't supposed to know any of this. Officially, we were visiting our newly re-constructed family home. We might be staying longer than expected so that Hero and Renegade could meet their New Orleans kin, but we were just socializing.

Really.

Just visiting.

.

_To Be Continued…_

.


	6. New Orleans, Cairo & the Casket

**Disclaimer: **I do not own.

**Chapter Summary: **You didn't really think the Guild was gone for good, did you? Heaven's no! Too much drama! So the Boudreaux's are back in N'awlins, and the sharks are circling. There's an unwanted betrothal, underage drinking, prophecies, spells and immortals. In order to keep her position, Honor leads a team to Cairo, where she runs into Sekmeht Conoway (an old friend of Gambit's), but not everyone is working for her success. Also, Renegade's adoption finally gets finalized. Hooray!

**The Ballad of Honor and Tess**

**New Orleans, Cairo, and the Casket of All Tomorrows**

My mother declined all her usual comforts on the trip home. Without the aid of her "happy pills", she was like a child herself in the airplane. And since we'd left Lena in New York, it was my responsibility to ensure we all arrived safely. Hero and I watched the landscape morph from city to mountains to farms. We both bounced in our seats when we reached the black waters of the Mississippi. Wouldn't be long now! The wonderful thing about the South is how slowly the time passes. If you leave New York for a minute, the whole world changes! But not much has changed in New Orleans in the last century. The music sounds the same; the food tastes the same; and the bayou smells the same.

Hero crinkled her nose at that last one, and Renegade remarked: "What smells like ass?"

Momma and I cackled. "Dat's de bayou, boy!"

"Smells like ass, don't it, 'Ero?"

She nodded in agreement.

"Is dat her?" Marie cried from the porch. "M' little Hero! Such a big girl now!"

Hero smiled brightly and ran to her godmother. The two of them looked more like sisters than Hero and I did. With the younger brown girl tucked safely in her arms, Marie proceeded to give us a tour of our new ancestral home.

…

I knew there would be a huge homecoming celebration that night, but even I failed to comprehend the full scope of things. While Momma and I got dressed and fixed our hair upstairs in our rooms, I watched as car after car after car filled our yard. Guild representatives from the entire Southeast were attending.

Tante Mattie knocked on my door and let herself in. "Oh, _chille_…" she cooed.

Tante Mattie was many things to the New Orleans Guild – mid-wife, nanny, adviser, and (soon for me) match-maker. She was short and round with thick, knotted hair and a pronounced gait. In truth, she was probably older than Jean-Luc, but appeared to be in her forties or fifties. Since she suddenly looked much older than I could ever recall, I could only assume that seeing me now made her _feel_ old.

"De ducklin' become a swan," she said with tenderness. And then that hand she'd used to whip me as a child caressed my cheek. "Your Momma sent me t' check on you, but I see I ain't needed."

"You would just sit with me for a second? I'm really anxious for some reason… I had no idea there'd be _so_ many guests! Why're there so many people?"

She smiled strangely. "Look in de mirror, girl. You a vision."

"Really, Tante!"

"_Really_. Dey come t' see you," she winked and left.

I took her advice and looked at my reflection. I'd decided to go with a blue dress because that was Momma's favorite color on me. It was turquoise silk under lay with sapphire tulle wrapped around many times to create volume. It draped off my shoulders and held my breasts together. (I'd learned long ago to _avoid_ dresses that hiked up the girls; made me look like a whore.) My hair was two inches long – give or take. I'd never had my hair this short, and if not for Renegade, it would probably just _sit_ there like a rat's nest. Luckily, he'd given me some pointers, so I wasn't a complete disaster. I put some mousse on my fingers and ran it through, so my hair looked polished and elegant. Normally, I would've put it up, but this length lent itself to the same silhouette. My left my neck and face bare. I've discovered that with eyes like mine, people don't look at anything else, so there's little point in painting my face. My eyes were dark like a kitten's and my cheeks had a little flush. Tante Mattie was right - I was a vision: much more beautiful than I'd been when I took the crown two years ago. But I wasn't as confident now as I'd once been. I didn't know my enemy from my friend, and I didn't know how to _beat_ my enemies. Obviously, Gaston Prideaux was no friend of mine. But he had both power and wealth; even his enemies were forced to side with him.

I took a deep breath and stilled my heart.

Down the hall, I found Renegade. He was dressed in a brand-new tuxedo and struggling with the tie.

"Need help?" I let myself in.

"Help? Do I _look_ like I need help?"

I giggled and dismissed his fingers. Within moments, I had neatly tied the long black tie and tightened the knot under his collar. I took the opportunity to observe him. He looked rather dashing in his new suit. His dreadlocks were washed and oiled and pulled back; his shoes were polished and his teeth were a respectable shade of white. He was completely different from the scrawny homeless boy I'd met.

"Never 'ad much use for one b'fore," he said sheepishly.

"No worries," I said, "What're sisters for?"

"Excuse me?" a voice outside called: a man, but I didn't know who.

"Who is it?" I asked.

The door opened and Mister Tome entered.

"Pardon yourself, good sir!" I exploded. "This is the _matriarch's_ house, and you will _not_ go where you aren't invited!"

Mr. Tome looked terrified, and then surprised, as if he'd mistaken me for my mother. Once he realized who I was, he looked irritated, but obeyed me.

Renegade was confused.

"This is your room," I told him quietly. "You are the son and the brother of the matriarchs. No one may take _anything_ from you without your consent. Not even your time. You mustn't give them _one inch!_ When you're ready for him, invite him in."

He nodded and paused. "Come in."

Mr. Tome entered. "Beggin' your pardon, sir. Your mother sent me, and I forgot my place. My name is Mr. Tome; I keep de Guild records. I come t' record your name for de Clan Boudreaux tree. I need your name and birthday, if you please."

"February sixteenth."

Mr. Tome opened his large, dusty book, and I watched him ink in a selection under my mother's name, beside Hero's.

"And m' name's Renegade."

Mr. Tome pursed his lips. "Your _real_ name, son."

My brother hesitated. "René. René Boudreaux."

"T'ank you kindly for your time." The grumpy old man left.

I took Renegade's arm and proudly said: "Welcome to the most powerful family in New Orleans."

…

The moment we stepped out of our rooms, we were scrutinized. Momma descended the stair-case, holding little Hero by the hand. My baby sister moved very slowly, but just as proudly as the rest of us. I held onto Renegade's stiff arm: both of us with steady feet and high chins. Naturally, we were the best dressed. Friends and enemies alike fell over themselves to kiss my mother's cheek, shake Renegade's hand, tell me how beautiful I looked, and give Hero a coin or sweet. I went on to greet Tante Mercy and Marie, who both praised my gown. My father's cousins Genard and Lapin were next, followed by Oncle Julien's widow, Miss Emily, and my mother's cousins. Then I greeted Misters Tome and Hoard, followed by council members Jacques, Pierre, and Martin of the higher clans. I had to _find_ the members of the lower clans – Frederick, Jean-Paul, and Adele – but I made time for them nonetheless.

"The order of introductions is very important," I whispered to Renegade. "The higher the rank in the Guild, the sooner the introduction. If Momma refused to speak to Tante Mercy – just an example – no one else could speak to Momma either."

"Why?"

"It would breach protocol."

"I said it b'fore, I say it again. White folk are crazy!"

Very slowly, we made our way through the main room.

"Bella Donna," a voice called like a foghorn.

"Gaston," my mother purred back.

"I don't believe you've ever met my boy. Chaucer, greet the matriarch."

Gaston was a tall and wide man with a square, pock-marked face and dark grey hair. His son was taller than the father, but they had the same dark hair and stocky body shape. I think they had matching hazel eyes, but Gaston's eyes were bold and curious. When he spoke, his voice boomed and people listened. When he was silent, his eyes spoke and people noticed. Chaucer was shy as a mouse. The obedient son kissed my mother's hand.

"And my children," Momma introduced us, "Honor, my eldest. Renegade, my son. And Hero, the baby."

"And not a father for any of them?" Gaston asked and looked around the room.

Momma wasn't deterred. "Better no _father_ for a child than no _mother_."

Gaston laughed as if he hadn't seriously offended us. "Welcome back, Bella Donna."

"Miss LeBeau? Dat really _you_?"

I turned to greet Singer, an Assassin and childhood friend of my mother's. She kindly kissed my cheek and took me in her arms. Loopy Questa and dashing Fifolet soon joined us, and I struggled to quickly fill them in on my life. Thankfully, the dinner bell rang soon after. I think the Guild would've kept me all night if they had the opportunity! Miraculously, we could all fit at a single table. I sat at the head, where everyone could see me, and those with the highest rank sat nearest to me. When Momma took the chair to my right, Gaston couldn't withhold a remark.

"Are you sure you've got the right seat, Bella Donna? Perhaps you should switch with the girl."

I leapt to my feet as if the chair was red-hot. Immediately, the table stood with me.

I forced my fists to relax and said: "Perhaps _you_ would like my seat, Gaston?"

He laughed jovially, but he was alone. The rest of the room held still its breath.

"No, really." I moved to stand behind the chair, offering it freely.

"Mistress," he chuckled, "If anyone should take the throne, it should be someone worthy."

I smiled so cruelly that it tickled. "I _insist_."

Now trapped in a checkmate, Gaston acted as his pride compelled him. The moment his bottom hit my seat cushion, Marie jumped from her place and left the room. Tante Mercy and my father's cousins followed her. Meanwhile, I took Gaston's place as if I didn't notice people leaving.

Next to me, Chaucer squirmed like a worm on a hook.

"Nervous?" I asked him quietly.

"You're g-g-going to r-r-regret dis."

My blood flamed anew. How dare this son-of-a-nobody threaten _me_!

"Come on, sis," I heard Renegade behind me. "Let's go."

I looked around at the emptied room. Only myself, Chaucer, and a few members of Clan Prideaux and Clan Daumier remained.

"Oh my!" I acted surprised. Then, to Gaston, I said: "Looks like dinner's been cancelled!"

As René and I left arm-in-arm, I heard Gaston mutter: "The bigger they are, my boy…"

"Too bad," Renegade whispered to me once we'd reached the main room. "All dat food, wasted!"

Momma walked by and spoke as if to herself: "De Guild's wasted more for less. René, _cher_, why don't you make nice wit' de rooks?"

He didn't hurry. He kissed my politely on the cheek and found the newly initiated. "Rooks", as the Guild called them, were those new to the Guild with no family ties. Traditionally, they had the least power, but no one held that against them. Renegade had once been a rook himself, and now he was nobility! I joined my cousins in their small circles. They weren't really my "cousins" – but they were Guild-born, like me. We'd all known each other since birth, and our parents had known each other's parents since birth. I considered Marie a cousin, but since she'd been matriarch (and now Council member), she ran with a different crowd. My cousins were my equals in every way – age, class, and financial status. Antonia and Jasmine Dubois welcomed me back with open arms. They hadn't always been kind to me, but now my worth out-weighed my weirdness. Benoite Boudreaux and Gene DuPont (actual cousins) seemed very uncomfortable by my presence. They'd been cruel to me, too, but now found me attractive. They weren't at all sure how to reconcile their conflicting emotions and wanted nothing more than for me to leave.

"I seen you sittin' by Chaucer," Jasmine gushed, "What's he like in person?"

"If you want to know, why don't you go talk to him yourself?" I asked.

The Dubois sisters giggled behind their hands and confessed they'd never have the nerve. They always were a silly pair, but this was foolish behavior even for _them_.

"He's very popular wit' de Guilds," Ben said quietly with downcast eyes. "Why you t'ink Gaston have de nerve t' challenge you _now_?"

A valid question. Mr. Prideaux had been with the Guild since birth, like his father and grandfather before him. Only after the recent Council split, had Gaston been made treasurer. He had petitioned for the position and won it. Now that he had an ounce of influence, he thought himself immortal.

After a brief and awkward catch-up with my kin, I excused myself: "I've never really made nice with my Thievin' coz's. I'll see you guys at the after party."

Instead, I stepped out to the balcony and stole a cigarette. The stars were beautiful and the air humid. A strong breeze was building: evidence of a coming storm.

"Those t'ings'll kill you."

I was so startled I almost dropped my smoke. Turning rather sharply, I came face-to-face with Vaughn Daumier. His father had tried to steal my throne and then my family's fortune, but Vaughn was more to me than just his father's son. He'd been my most bitter rival as a child. But after Momma was killed, Vaughn stole her rosary from Marie and had it sent to me. He had no reason for his guilt – other than a good soul – and I think we both began to see the beginnings of a good man in him. At least, I'd thought highly of him at _twelve_. Since then, we'd had unresolved arguments, unprovoked acts of kindness, and unnecessary confessionals. I really wasn't sure _what_ I thought about him anymore.

"Was a time when nobody had de edge on Honor LeBeau," he smiled and stood beside me. "Must got a bee hive up dere."

"Vaughn…" I wanted to ask him what he really thought about me. But then I remembered who and where I was. I smothered my feeling and put on an indifferent face. "Why are you here? I thought you'd moved-"

"T' Texas. _Oui_. I'm a Harvester Apprentice wit' de Beaumont Guild."

"That's wonderful," I said in an even, detached tone. "I'm glad you've done well for yourself."

Seeing him now, it was almost easier to pretend we were different people. He was tall for his age with board shoulders, defined arms and a narrow waist. He worked out often, which meant he took his Apprenticeship seriously, _and_ he had a lot of time alone. His hair, eye lashes, brows and eyes were all the same harmonious shade of spun gold: the trait of a boy I'd once known.

His face grimaced as if he was in pain. "Don't talk t' me like you ain't know me! Honor… Look, I'm real sorry 'bout what I said in dat letter. You outta know better den anyone dat I just run off at de mouth. Shouldn't listen t' me."

In his last letter, he'd apologized for telling me I was a rotten brat and he hated me. Of course, he never knew I read that last letter and had forgiven him. He thought we still hated each other. But this wasn't the place to try and solve all that.

"Thank you for coming all the way from Beaumont," I said. "Did you come alone? Or is André with you?"

André was his older brother. The two of them and their cousin Clayton use to make a sport out of tormenting me.

"'On…" He started slowly, "Dré was killed in de massacre."

I felt the horror contorting my face, but I didn't care. I dropped my chin and cried on the balcony in front of him. "No _wonder_ you hate me!" I sobbed.

"Please! I don't hate you! Come on. I don't wanna be de jackass who made you cry at your own party!"

"It's _my_ party!"

"And you'll cry if you want t'?"

In spite of myself, I broke a laugh. He awkwardly patted my back, and moved many times as if to wipe away my tears. But every time his hand got close to me, he pulled it away again. Did he think I was going to bite him?

Marie joined us, and asked if I was alright. "Perhaps we should return to the party," she suggested.

Once inside, Vaughn made himself scarce. I suppose he didn't want to be seen with me. I quickly put on a bright face and re-emerged into the madness. On the sides, I noticed Renegade getting along very well with the rooks. He'd done Momma proud. I don't know if he knew this or not, but he was socializing with the new _Thieves_. He more slowly approached the Assassins. Old habits die hard. Tante Mattie was leading Hero upstairs: it was bedtime for her. Several people seemed genuinely sad to see the little brown girl leave. She'd done well for a mute toddler. Apparently, I was the only one who'd not made an impression. Marie encouraged me to take a seat at the piano, and because I trusted her judgment, I obeyed. The room was far too quiet, anyway. I filled the house with the risqué notes of Chopin, and everyone enjoyed themselves.

Gaston's eyes were heavy on me.

"_Magnifique_," Frederick Daumier whispered to Gaston, where they thought I couldn't hear them.

The ugly man muttered back: "The girl? Or the song?"

And they laughed like old dogs, content in their secret filth. Something about Gaston frightened me. When I first met him, I thought perhaps I was intimidated by his loud voice and abrasive behavior. Now I detected something more sinister in him. There was a darkness in him that disturbed me.

_Underneath his shadow lay a vampire. Older than memory, longer than time. The shadow knew no satisfaction. If she could, she'd devour the world and glory in it. But living things were better than dead things, so she killed only what she needed to kill. And the living? She ate them more slowly… _

"_Chere_?" I heard my mother's voice.

The whole room had fallen silent. All eyes looked to me.

Oh god! I'd had a spell! If I'd spoke it aloud, I'd die of shame.

"Well," another woman's voice chimed, "I've never had an entrance quite like that before."

I looked to Gaston's shadow. She was indeed a vampire. Tall and pretty, her skin hadn't seen daylight in centuries. I could see the blue veins crisscrossing under her porcelain epidermis, and I wondered where they met. Surely, she had no heart. She wore a black gothic dress than draped across the floor and lifted her full, white breasts. The sides had been eaten away, revealing an underfed torso and protruding ribs. Her hair was black and cold; and in the wind, it reached out like the grisly fingers of death.

Selene.

"I thought to join you for dinner," she spoke to the room at large, "But I seem too late."

My eyes flickered to my mother. I needed to know she was safe.

Selene turned to me, "Don't worry, girl. If I came to suck you dry, I'd have done it already."

Marie's hand was on her sword's hilt, but Selene caught her. "Haven't you suffered enough for this one, _mademoiselle_?"

"There's no need for alarm," Gaston spoke boldly. "Madame Selene is a friend to the Guild."

"And I hope to be much more," The wicked woman added. "I am Selene, Black Queen of the Hellfire Club. As your child prophet already stated, I am divine. And thanks to your child prophet, I am the _last_ link to divinity on earth. Since Candra's reduction, the Guilds have no doubt _missed_ her benefits. I can offer protection superior to hers. And for those most loyal to my requests, I can offer power. And immortality. Trust my words when I say the Guild would rather have me as an honored benefactress than a spurred adversary. You are weak. There are others who would break you and take your wealth. I can make you strong again."

"How _dare_ you!" Momma raged. She was shaking all over. I wondered if my mother had _ever_ been afraid. "You trespass int' _my_ home invited! You speak down t' de people you mean t' rob! De Guild has no use for another _pimp_!"

"Who the hell are you?" Selene hissed. The lights dimmed and coldness swept through the room. Like rising water, the icy air started low and rose up.

Momma stood firm.

"She is no one," Gaston answered Selene. "Not even our mistress. She speaks only for herself."

I stood beside my mother and spoke to the demon. "The Guild has _always_ voted on matters such as this. The clans will speak with their Council members, and we will vote at the next collecting."

"Call the vote now," Selene pressed.

"_No!"_ I snapped. "The next collection is in six days. You will _wait_. We will _vote_."

Courage is a strange thing. I could feel fear at my back and under my skin like cold water. But on my face and flowing over me was a warmth that gave me strength. I would not falter now.

"Very well," she ceded. "But tell them truly. I am their last link to divinity. I will not extend my hand again."

For all her divinity, she walked out modestly enough. Once the door had shut behind her, Momma rounded on Gaston.

"And _you_!" She stormed over to him and the stupid man didn't even have the sense to flinch. She kneed his groin and he fell to the floor. "You mean to _oust_ me and mine by invitin' de _devil_ int' our home?"

"Still your temper," said Frederick Daumier. "Maybe you just angry de Madame didn't approach you, _non_?"

"Shut it, _homme_! Your hand ain't quicker den my knee, either!"

He backed down, but now Pierre Dubois spoke against Momma.

"There is truth in what she said, Bella Donna. We ain't as strong as we use t' be. Harder t' recruit rooks. Harder t' buy loyalty. You in New York and at de top – maybe you don' see how hard it be. But de rest of us see it. Life hard enough wit' de police and de other Guilds and just tryin' t' survive. Almost easier t' go straight! Why we do dis?"

"We _do this_," I said, "because it's the right thing to do! We weren't made to grovel at _anyone's_ feet! We were made to be the _masters!_ And since memories seem to be short around here – _no one_ has sacrificed _more_ for the Guild than my mother! _No one!_"

Everyone lowered their heads in shame except for Gaston, who staggered to his feet.

So Momma and I still had the Guild… But for how long? There was much work to be done. I wanted to forgo the after party, but Momma insisted.

"You stay in, _chere_, and dey _know_ we scared. You g' on_. Laissez les bon temps rouler!_ And if you can, try t' get in wit' Prideaux."

…

In the dead of night, the Guild cousins and rooks snuck out of windows and balconies. Normally, their parents would be in a drunken slumber – not a common thing, but common enough. Tonight, no one slept. Loyalties were questioned, bargains were struck, and the future seemed more pressing and important than ever. But they let the kids go because it was a rite of passage. They'd done the same, as their parents before them: all thinking they were the first and most clever. In the dead of night, there were no rooks or cousins. We were all equal. Flasks and stolen bottles of wine were passed around and quickly consumed. Someone brought weed, but I declined. Not to appear pompous – I just didn't really care for the stuff. Still dressed in our gowns and tuxedoes, we broke into a race track and hot-wired the cars. Antonia dropped her panties in lieu of a flag, and we peeled down the road. Of course, being Thieves and Assassins, it wasn't long before the "race" turned into demolition derby. Drunk on alcohol and life, we rammed into each other's vehicles. Once our original car was no longer drivable, we'd climb out the window, run back to the garage while dodging moving cars and other runners, and hotwire another vehicle. And back into the battle!

Towards the end, we had to share for lack of cars.

I was driving a little orange Dodge (the caution truck) with Renegade in the passenger seat. Vaughn hijacked an eighteen wheeler cab (a transportation truck) and was chasing the remaining cars. We didn't really stand a chance, but put up a good fight. Finally, it came down to the orange Dodge and the blue cab. I could outrun the semi – sure – but I couldn't destroy it. I tried many times to lure Vaughn into the grass field, where he might get bogged down, but he didn't fall for it.

"Get on de hood!" Renegade suggested.

"Do _what_?"

"Get on de hood! Go bang-bang wit' yo' marbles!"

I steered the truck into the grassy field. Again, Vaughn circled the track like a shark. When he saw me climb out and crawl onto the hood, he decided to risk going in. Renegade quickly jumped into the driver's seat, and we peeled off just in time. Sitting on the roof of the truck, I saw the grill of the semi get too close. Vaughn blew his loud, obnoxious horn with glee. Just as we began to establish some distance, I unwrapped the fake jade necklace from my left hand and popped the string. The round stones rolled onto the road and under the semi before exploding. One tire blew out and then another. It swerved dangerously before coming to a stop.

Renegade stopped the truck and ran circles around it cheering: "Hooray Team Boudreaux!"

"How'd you do dat?" My cousins asked me later that night.

They were referring to my marble explosions, of course. Rather than destroying a nice necklace every time I needed to defend myself, I'd taken to buying cheap necklaces with glass beads. I'd wrap the strand twice around my wrist, then once around my middle finger. I found they were both easy to carry and effective weapons. A marble might not look dangerous, but as shrapnel, it packs a real punch. I called them my "prayer beads".

"I'm a mutant," I told them boldly. "My father can do the same thing. Well, not exactly the same… But more or less."

"You do anyt'ing else?" Gene asked with enthusiasm.

"Well… You guys keep this to yourselves… But sometimes I can see the future. That's why, at dinner earlier, I went all still and rambled out a riddle."

They were all genuinely impressed.

Except for Vaughn, apparently. "Wow," he said dully, "A bastard. A lesbian. _And_ a mutant. Your parents must be **so** proud."

Chaucer punched him in the face, and Vaughn fell like a wet noddle.

"No m-m-manners at all!" he spat with disgust.

I looked at Chaucer and he looked at me.

With several hours left until dawn, none of us were ready to go home. Slowly, we wandered down to the coast, where Renegade spotted an empty yacht. While he, Vaughn and Ben confiscated the boat – Chaucer and I volunteered for watch-out duty. I hardly knew what to say to the man. And yes, he was a _man_. Now that I studied him, Chaucer Prideaux appeared to be in his late teens, early twenties. He was shorter than I was, but I couldn't hold that against him… Most people were, after all… I noticed his body wasn't as well-defined as Vaughn's. He was stocky and soft like a teddy bear, and I felt very safe with him.

"Thanks for sticking up for me back there," I told him while we waited on the dock. The others were elsewhere; we were alone.

He smiled at me and shrugged.

"No, it _is_ a big deal. No one else would've done that for me."

He hesitated. "You're only t-t-talkin' t' me 'c-c-cause your mother s-s-sent you."

"You mean your father _didn't_ send _you_?"

"Doesn't m-m-matter. I ain't d-d-doin' it."

A few quiet minutes later, Renegade brought a dingy to us, and then took us to the yacht. I'd never been on a yacht before. Since we were all still wearing our tuxes and gowns, it was almost like a real party except that we were dirty and half undressed. We set out to sea, and right away, the liquor and music were discovered. Small games of poker and truth-or-dare commenced, and someone discovered a karaoke machine. In the background, I could hear Thief-rooks Felicia and Jerome singing every melancholy eighties hit they knew. I cleaned everyone out at the poker table, and briefly joined truth-or-dare. But after Antonia dared me to kiss Vaughn, I no longer had the stomach for it. I stepped outside to the echoes of whistles and catcalls at my back.

Yes, a cigarette was _definitely_ required!

I suddenly wished I was back in New York, where I could just be a regular teenager. But wishing wouldn't make it so. Didn't take long for politics to grow stale on me, and I understood why my father had abandoned this place.

_It was ten p.m. in Valle Soleada. The twins were asleep, Rogue was pre-occupied, and he was alone. He wandered outside to smoke, looked up at the stars, and thought of me. _

I looked at the stars and thought of him, too, but his mind wasn't sensitive to things like this.

Half way through my smoke, Vaughn joined me outside. He was growing a nice shiner from Chaucer's left hook.

"Can we just… act like dat never happen?" He asked awkwardly.

"Already forgotten about it."

"Good." He stood uncomfortably close to me and said: "'Cause when I t'ink about kissin' you, it ain't in a room full a' people."

My face burned. Part of me wanted to push him overboard; part of me wanted to know what _else_ he thought about doing to me… Since I had the benefit of foresight, I knew he wanted to kiss me again, and only whiskey gave him the courage to saw so.

"Vaughn, I… I'm seeing someone."

"Didn't stop you last time," he shrugged.

"_That_ didn't mean anything!"

"But this might?"

I saw his pointed nose nearing mine, and then his mouth pressed against my lips. His kiss was soft and tempting – the sort of kiss that is not 'good-night' but 'stay-the-night'. I could taste the liquor on him, but beneath the bitterness lay his real scent. He was musky and hot like a deep bowl of stew. I pulled back and slapped his face so hard that it left a hand imprint.

And then the boat went dark.

"Aw, _merde_!" someone shouted, "Did we run outta gas?"

Luckily, we still had the dingy, and made it back to the coast without having to call for help. Climbing out of the small boat ruined our fine clothes, and I laughed at myself.

"My Momma's gonna _kill_ me!"

"You t'ink _you're_ in trouble?" asked Vaughn. "Dis is a _rental_!"

I crinkled my nose. "You _rent_ clothes? You mean, a hundred other people have worn that, and now _you're_ wearing it?"

"I try not t' t'ink about it, but t'anks for remindin' me."

I knew it hurt Chaucer to see how quickly and easily I'd forgiven Vaughn. Worse, he thought I resented him for defending me. And I had Momma's orders… _Get close to Prideaux._ So Chaucer didn't trust me, but he thought me useless. And he wanted to protect me – that was a start. Hopefully, that would be enough to appease my mother.

At sunrise, Renegade and I drug ourselves up the driveway.

Surprisingly, Momma ran out to greet us with a smile stretched across her face.

"I got it, _chere_! I know how we gonna save de Guild!"

.::.

The Guilds have nothing if not secrets. For example, the Thieves Guild was formerly the Thieves and Hookers Guild. Actually, that's how they survived during the dry years. Many of the traits – the heavy use of seduction, and turning to prostitutes for information – are because of that alliance. We have stories, too. I know every ancestor who fought the Civil War… and the war between Louisiana and Mexico… I know who came from France and Canada, who intermarried with slaves and natives… I know why we collect gemstones, and why the Guilds are immortal. Often times, our stories and our secrets overlap. The prophecy of the white devil with red eyes came to the Guild through our African ancestors: specifically, my mother's grandfather, Marius. The devil is destined to restore the Guilds to their rightful place in the world. We will no longer be a secret, underground organization with ties to every government. We will _become_ the government. Imagine a world where people don't owe taxes or tithes. Imagine a world where financial burdens are no burdens at all, but a load to be shared and carried by all. This is life in the Guild, and once the Guild takes the world's throne – it will be the life of everyone. Since the devil's been so long in coming, smaller stories have developed concerning his whereabouts. Supposedly, the "Casket of All Tomorrows" has information to help locate the devil. The "Stone of Arcadia" will help find the casket. You get the point… I'd assumed the Casket and the Stone were just urban legends. Six months ago, Chaucer was working in Egypt when he came across the Casket of All Tomorrows.

"Why the hell didn't we hear about it?" was my first response.

"It was empty," Momma replied.

"Stupid bastard didn't even know what it was," said Marie, bringing me a cup of _café au lait_. "Wasn't even lookin' for it."

The hair on my arms stood up.

"So…" I deduced. "He stumbled across something that _passed_ for the Casket, and comes home a hero. Then Gaston has the support he needs for the treasury position…"

"Dangerous suggestion," Marie warned.

"Even _more_ dangerous if Gaston planted it," said Momma. Then, she asked me: "You t'ink Chauce go along wit' dat?"

I bit my lip. "I don't know, Momma… He's a good man. _Honest_. But people do stupid things for their kin."

"We'll go along wit' Gaston's story," Momma said. "For now. We need t' find de contents. Find de _real_ Casket. Den de Guilds see Prideaux for who he truly be."

Hero came slowly downstairs. Once she saw me, a sleepy smile crossed her mouth and she came to me with out-stretched arms. I picked her up.

"Good mornin' _mademoiselle_ Hero," Renegade cooed at her, tucking a lock of pale blonde hair behind her brown ear.

"Aw…" Momma said sweetly. "_Mes trois petits oiseaux_."

…

It didn't take much time or effort for Momma's version to reach the ears and hearts of the Guild. Everyone had seen my spell. The cousins and rooks heard me say I was a prophet, and carried the news back to their parents. Even those who believed Chaucer's version desired the contents of the Casket. If I could fulfill Momma's promise, we might have the support to keep Selene out. So we decided I would travel to Africa to reclaim the articles. There was no time for the usual debates or announcements that usually preceded quests of this magnitude, but Momma called together a quick meeting of the minds, more or less to announce my departure.

"Why doesn't the prophet just _tell_ us where the contents are," Gaston asked. He was always ready with a challenge.

"It's clearer when I'm physically close to my mark," I told the ugly old man.

He looked disgusted that I'd spoken.

"Who shall accompany her?" Marie asked. "Capable as the prophet is, she'll require assistance."

"Send Chaucer," said Gaston.

Momma puffed up like a momma bird whose nest had been disturbed. "Send my fifteen-year-old _daughter_ int' a foreign country wit' your twenty-year-old _son_? Maybe we send dem wit' cigarettes and condoms! 'Cause dat's everybody gonna t'ink when dey get back!" He held up his hands in defense, but Momma got in his face and shouted on. "You mean t' destroy her chances at a good marriage along wit' everyt'ing else! You wanna fight me, Prideaux, pull yer goddamn sword! Keep yer hands off m' youngin'!"

"Damn, you are a _fine_ woman!" He nearly hollered. "And your man _left_ you?"

I couldn't tell if he was being sincere or mean.

"Send 'er brother," Marie offered. "Dat'll be acceptable."

"So de two minds a' Bella Donna can work t'gether?" Frederick countered. "I don' trust dat. Send Vaughn: good T'ievin' boy. No friend a' LeBeau. Or Boudreaux."

Frederick was Vaughn's uncle. If he thought Vaughn still hated me, let him. It was an angle I could use.

"Wit' company _dat_ thick…" Marie drawled, "We _could_ send Chaucer… Best t' have an adult. Just in case."

…

_Cairo, Egypt  
_Momma told me not to worry about her, but I couldn't help it. Likewise, I knew she was in New Orleans, worrying herself sick about Renegade and me. We had the easy part… Locate the Casket of All Tomorrows, return it to the Guild, and make nice with Chaucer. She had the dirty job of moving all the pawns into place so the vote went our way. I knew she used me in her game, but not with honest intentions. She could promise my hand to a thousand boys, but until my father agreed, her promise was only half-good. Although she hadn't told me this, I knew she was in negotiations with Gaston. For her sake, I tried talking to Chaucer on the plane ride and then at the hotel, but he was reluctant to make small-talk because of his shutter and we had nothing in common, anyway.

"Don' waste your time," Vaughn told me. "He gotta girlfriend. But it's his father you want, not him."

"Then maybe I should turn my charms on Gaston." I gagged. "Sorry. I just threw up a little when I said that…"

…

A few minutes before dawn, the phone in my hotel room rang. Half-asleep, I hadn't the sense to question things.

"Where de hell are you?" Papa bellowed from the phone.

"Huh…"

"You travel t' de other side a' de planet! And _no one_ t'inks t' call me? You better get your ass _back_ t' N'awlins, 'cause if _I_ get dere first, I'll kill her! I will _kill_ your Momma and _bury_ her in de back yard!"

My blood ran cold. If there's one thing to know about my parents, they don't make idle threats. I particularly didn't like him threatening to kill my mother. Those words were enough to incite violence in the most peaceful person. But I knew he spoke out of fear, and my mother could handle herself, and he could only frighten me into retreating. He couldn't _force_ me to do anything.

"Papa, everything's _fine_."

"Don't speak t' me like I'm stupid! You goin' wit' a pack a' boys, too? Dey probably got you half knocked up already!"

"_Pop_!" I snapped - no longer patient. "That's _enough_! I can handle myself! I'm with Renegade! He's my _brother!_ If you can't trust _him_, you can't trust _me_!"

I heard Rogue trying to take the phone away from him.

"She's m' girl, Rogue! Belle ain't got de right-" I heard him saying to her.

"This ain't the way to handle it! You're scarin' her, Remy!" Rogue countered.

There were muffled pats and scratchy noises as the phone moved back and forth.

"Remy? _Remy!_ Listen to me! You're _scarin'_ her!"

There was a pause and then my father's voice returned."_Chere_? You still dere?" He sounded like himself again: no longer deranged and possessed.

I hung up and unplugged the phone. I had _enough_ crap to deal with!

…

The next morning, we spilled into the streets of Cairo. We had nothing more than the clothes on our backs and the bundle of local currency in our pockets. If we weren't careful, we'd end up with nothing but clothes. We didn't even speak the language. No sense in buying a map then; although they were available in English… I resented our shortcomings because I knew my father would never be caught so off-guard. He didn't speak Arabic, but Tante Ro did. The four of us – Renegade, Vaughn, Chaucer and I – fought our way through the streets. Cairo was undoubtedly the most crowded city I'd ever set foot in. The bodies moved like waves against the sand, and the masses spilled into every alley, restaurant and temple. I thought the water would never thin. When it finally did, we four tourists were obvious marks for even the most timid pick-pockets.

"Are you sure we're going the right way?" I asked Chaucer.

He was supposedly leading us to the place he'd found the Casket.

"You de psychic," he spat impatiently.

"_Oui_!" I snarled, "And I'm working overtime t' make sure we don't get lost or pinched! You t'ink you can start pullin' your weight, Prideaux?"

Vaughn clapped and laughed, "She's still Cajun, after all!"

I knew he didn't care if I was unhappy or rude, but Chaucer hung his head with shame.

"I'm sorry," I told the older thief. "I've just got a lot on my mind…"

Renegade rubbed my shoulders and said quietly so the others wouldn't hear: "You can't hate us for not bein' Tess."

Tess.

That Afghan girl who broke my soul. I couldn't say I hadn't been thinking of her, but that was my secret. There weren't two minutes that passed when she wasn't on my mind. But I was making progress. I found that if I kept busy, I missed her less. And if I focused on a task, I might go _three_ minutes without thinking of her. She didn't help. She'd never told me good-bye or apologized for hurting me. I might've forgiven her for everything… And now that we were apart, she slipped into my mind during dreams and pressed her body to mine. My excuse for keeping quiet was my own insecurities. What if I only dreamed it myself? I would look foolish for blaming her. But honestly, I lived for those brief moments when she loved me again. If I could only have scraps of her, it would suffice.

…

_New Orleans  
_Bella Donna waited for no man. This had been her way since childhood, when she learned how men truly work. Men waited on women, not the other way around. For a woman to await a man gave the appearance of desperation, dependence, and dimness. She was none of those things. And yet, here she was awaiting Gaston Prideaux. The visit was casual and acceptable enough. They were both high-ranking Guild members with children of close age. Since Gaston's good fortune was recent, his son wasn't promised to any family. Belle had intentionally not promised her child to anyone because – as previously stated – women don't wait on men. But Belle was desperate and, in spite of her pride, desperate times called for desperate measures. So she would dance and play, if it bought her daughter more time.

"Bella Donna!" Gaston entered briskly and kissed her hands. "I apologize for the delay. Please, come!"

He led her from the parlor into the dining room, where he brought her coffee and store-bought cookies.

"_Merci_," she politely sipped her coffee. Her violet eyes looked up from under dark lashes and she smiled defensively. "If I may be frank, Gaston, I ain't entirely comfortable bein' entertained in dese matters by a man… Gentleman, though he may be."

Gaston grimaced in an expression resembling a smile, as if the gesture had been beaten from him. "I didn't _ask_ her to leave."

"No, of course not. We never do, _non_?"

"Well, if it doesn't diminish your opinion of me…" He wandered towards the cabinet and poured himself a glass of bourbon. "I'm going to need a loose tongue for _this_ conversation."

She smiled. "Tante Mattie t'inks our children be a good match."

That wasn't entirely true, but Tante Mattie was paid for her words and compliance – not her _thoughts_. Belle knew the old woman was no novice: she'd been playing this game of match-making with Guild prodigies for decades. She would take Belle's money and plea with Gaston for an interview… Just like she'd probably taken Gaston's money to make the suggestion to Belle.

"Yes…" Gaston took a deep gulp of the dark liquor. "I was surprised, but I don't know Honor as well as Tante Mattie. How – how does the girl like her coffee?"

"_Cher_, dere's more t' a marriage den _coffee_. Dey both come from broken homes, so dey know how important marriage is t' family. Dey both healthy, smart: make good babies. And Honor been taught her whole life t' respect de Guild above all others. It is her _destiny_. But Chaucer…?"

"My son is as loyal to the cause as any!"

"Is he? I hear he got a _belle_."

"Something to pass the time," Gaston said dismissively. "Nothing you need concern yourself with. I hear Honor has a girlfriend, too!"

"_Oui_," Belle smiled and twisted as if sharing a wicked secret, "Her father indulges her. Says she can date anyone she pleases. But Honor is young, and for a young girl to date another ain't nothin'. Unfair as it is, I t'ink we both know a young _man_ can't date whoever he pleases." She added cream and sugar while she continued: "Honor won't be ready t' marry for another ten or fifteen years. Dat's long enough for Chauce t' fall in love… promise himself t' someone else… Have a _bébé_ or _deux_… And you can see why dat would hurt de Guild. I won't have my child look like some home wreckin' floozy."

"Is it women in general you dislike?" asked Gaston. "Or just this one in particular?"

"Really, cher; I don't even know her name. I can't tell your boy how t' live for de next ten years, but I can tell you what sorta man Honor _won't_ marry."

"I assure you, my dear, the girl is nothing! He will end things with her, and there will be no more hesitations. Is that our agreement, or will you have another qualification for him to meet at that time?"

"Your son is a _man_. You can't give me _his_ word, only he can do dat."

"I give you my word, Bella Donna. My son will do whatever I instruct him to do."

Belle smiled and extended her hand. "Dat's what I wanted t' hear."

They shook hands.

…

_Cairo  
_The four of us fell into the dusty lair beneath the dingy temple. A perfect hiding place, really. After we cleared our lungs and found our bearings, I unraveled a strand of fake onyx beads and slightly charged it. A dim, blue light softly touched the closest objects.

_Chaucer had been here. He had stumbled across a Casket. But it hadn't been empty._

"Well?" Vaughn prompted.

I gasped and clutched my chest dramatically. Then I rounded on Chaucer.

"You _pawned_ the contents?"

In the darkness, Renegade and Vaughn looked like demons.

"I- I-" Chaucer stuttered: this time out of fear. "I d-d-didn't know w-w-what it was!"

"So you were too ashamed to tell the Guild! But why did you lie to me? We're putting our asses on the line!"

"W-w-we would've had t' c-c-come here t' start anyway!"

"And you wanted to see whether or not I'm really psychic! Goddamn your _pride_, Prideaux!"

Suddenly, we were no longer alone. I spun around as soon as I felt them. Apparently, my comrades felt them at the same time I did. While we put up our defenses, Renegade disappeared and floated away. Five figures emerged – three men and two women. They were older than Renegade but younger than Chaucer, and – unlike _us_ – they had their bases covered. I immediately recognized the lanky dark boy as their leader; the tall Muslim boy with a weak beard was his enforcer, not to be confused with the enormous rock of tattooed skin: the muscle. The taller girl with caramel skin and black hair was the eyes of the organization. And the skinny black girl was their runner.

"So _you_ stole our bounty!" The leader, Pip, declared and approached us.

I instinctively reached behind me and grabbed Chaucer and Vaughn by the wrist and hand, respectively. I hoped Renegade would have enough sense to hide until he could help us make an escape.

"This place was _loaded_ until you blew it!" Pip accused.

His crew circled us, blades and chains glinting in the soft blue light. I considered igniting my beads and dropping them as a distraction, but our attackers acted first. Behind me, the eyes and the runner leapt at Vaughn and Chaucer. My comrades took the bait, and I was quickly swept up by the muscle. Zu, the tattooed rock, smelled like old garlic in the summer sun. I made myself as slippery as an oiled eel, but his arms clenched me like a mother's womb. After a few moments, he pressed a small machete against my neck. Ironically, I was already scarred there. Vaughn and Chaucer are scavengers, not predators, and surrendered easily to spare my life. Foreign hands invaded our pockets and socks for cash, and they cleaned us out. Just to be sure, Eyes slipped her hands in my bra, where women sometimes hide things.

"Hey!" I shouted and squirmed.

Vaughn flinched and jumped away from Enforcer. "_Homme_, you start grabbin' me, and you gonna get more den a busted ear drum!"

Pip offhandedly counted our money and then turned to us. I knew what he was going to say-

"This doesn't _begin_ to cover what you stole… _Homme_. Where're you staying?"

"N-n-nowhere."

"N-n-nowhere?" Pip mocked Chaucer, and all his cronies had a good laugh.

I wanted to punch him.

"Well," Pip continued, "If ya got nothin' else to cover your debt, I'll have to take it from your flesh."

They wouldn't _kill_ us… But they'd beat the guys senseless and rape me. No sense in all that – especially with my brother still nearby to help. All he needed was an opening. I could give him that card if I could split these guys up.

"No!" I shouted. "We're staying at the Hilton near the airport. I can get you more money, please!"

Pip smiled victoriously. "No. You stay here. You-" he pointed to Chaucer, "-will bring us the rest. Ayaan, Azim - go with him."

The Enforcer and the Runner nodded and shadowed him back to the surface.

Not surprisingly, Vaughn and I were blindfolded and tied up. Renegade had gone with Chaucer, just as he should have. He didn't like to leave me, but it was the right thing to do. Soon after the small party left, Vaughn and I were transported to van and re-located. First rule to being kidnapped – _never_ let them move you. If you get in the car, you're as good as dead. Vaughn and I had been taught this when most kids were learning patty-cake, and once we realized what was happening, we nearly panicked. But we still had the advantage – my foresight. I knew this group didn't murder if they didn't have to. They were just trying to survive. They weren't really into ransom, either; they were making things up as they went along. Moving seemed sensible to them in case a priest came downstairs or Chaucer somehow alerted the authorities. So I calmed Vaughn down as best I could, and hoped he'd trust my abilities. During the ride, I think he grabbed my hand, but my mind was far away…

_They were taking us to a safe-house. Ayaan and Azim would know to come here with the money. If all went well, we would be loaded back into the van and left under a bridge: broke but unharmed. The group of bandits would ditch the vehicle and move on to the next town until Cairo forgot about them._

What was I doing?

Focus!

…Taking us to a safe-house… Yes. _While we waited, Renegade and Chaucer would overpower their bodyguards. They'd double back to the temple and find us gone. Meanwhile, the guards would come to the safe-house and report my team's betrayal. And then they really __**would**__ kill us._

If I was going to prevent that scenario from happening, Vaughn and I would need to escape ourselves. But then what? We still needed to find the contents of the Casket, which had no doubt been scattered to the Egyptian black market. And capable as I was, I knew nothing of the local ties and routes and customs… But here was a capable team who could show me the way. I only had to convince them to help us.

But _how_?

"'On!" Vaughn broke my concentration. We were being moved down a flight of stairs. "We need t' leave. _Now_."

"No! Trust me. Please, just go along with it for now."

Vaughn and I were in a basement, which was hot and narrow and made it difficult to think. We were left in the company of Eyes, who was armed; and Zu, who was not_. Pip, the leader, went upstairs to drink and gamble. There were others – many, many more – but they were no friend of Pip's. If he was in danger, they wouldn't trouble themselves for him. _I quickly deduced that if we'd find any allies here, it would be with Eyes. After all, a person may ignore all their other senses, but they'll always believe their eyes and hands.

_I saw it with my own eyes…_

_Her name was Samira; she was a pretty girl. She'd been given to a man she could never love, and he raped her in an attempt to break her spirit. Still young and burning with life, she left him and joined an army of child soldiers. She knew the taste of human blood, and hated that as well. That's how she fell in with Pip and his crew. The boys all thought they loved her because she was prettier than skinny, ebony-skinned Ayaan, and because she knew their secrets. But she didn't want them any more than she wanted this life. Truth be told, she wanted a house and a friend – that was all. She didn't even need love… Just a friend._

Her life was very similar to Tess's.

Sweet, back-stabbing Tess.

But Tess learned to harden her heart in ways even _I_ couldn't imagine. Tess learned very early that power is greater than love: more desirable. And she never forgot it. _Samira knew that love was rarer than power: more precious. And she would never forget it._

"Could you take the blindfold off, please?" I asked. "I don't feel so good."

Samira handed the gun to Zu and removed our blindfolds.

"I've seen it before," she told me. "White folk who aren't use to the sun."

She gave me clean water to drink and I thanked her. Honestly, I felt like crap. My skin was clammy, my stomach knotted, and my mind kept wandering. I wondered if I hadn't suffered a heat stroke. How embarrassing – it wasn't even _summer_ here! After a few minutes, I lay down on the dirty cement floor, and Samira bought a wet rag for my head.

"I wish I could untie your hands, but…" she said pitifully.

I showed her my hands, which had been free for some time. Vaughn did the same. She backed away, startled.

"We're wasting time," I told her. "My friends don't have any more money. I lied about the hotel; no one even knows where we are. That dumb fuck we came with lost something very important to me. I need information; you want riches. We can help each other."

She shook her head in disbelief. "Why…?"

"I need you to convince _those_ dumb fucks that some people value words more than the gold they're written on. I know you're their spy. You're the _only_ one who understands."

Momma always said if charm was talent, Papa had it in spades. I _hoped_ I had it, and that I could convince Samira to help. While Zu and Samira argued amongst themselves, Vaughn re-folded the wet rag and gently laid it across my brow.

"Hate t' say it, 'On, but I t'ink she's right… Looks like you got de sun sickness."

I shook my head. "Vaughn, what do you know about mutants?"

"Huh… Don't dey fly or somet'ing? Blow laser beams outta dere asses?"

I laughed. "Using our abilities non-stop is sort of like running non-stop. My body's…" I couldn't say it.

"What?" he pressed.

"I haven't had to use my precognitive skills like this in a long time. I – I can't turn it off. It's like a tape playing in my mind, all these scenarios rolling out like a movie. It's getting harder to shut it out."

"You can't stop it? What's gonna happen?"

"I… I need my medicine. I couldn't get it through customs. It's a lithium/benzodiazepine based formula. That means it-"

"I know what it does!" He gaped at me. "_Mon Dieu_… You're really bananas, ain't you?"

He and I stared at each other: amazed.

"Dat means you bein' treated for hallucinations, mood disorders, seizures… And _you_ run de Guild?"

Suddenly, I remembered Vaughn was _not_ my friend. I had given him a secret – carelessly – which he could use to destroy me… Providing I survived _this_ first.

How much worse could things get?

.::.

_New Orleans  
_Adele told herself she would not fuss over the matriarch's visit. She would _not_ spend all day cleaning, baking snacks, and picking out throw cushions to make the couch "pop". But by three o'clock, she'd dusted late father's portrait eighteen times.

"She comin' t' ask a favor a' _you_!" Her husband sulked, tired of her constant self-flagellation. "_You_ ain't gotta impress _her_!"

But she couldn't help herself. It had been bred into her… The Guild head was more precious than the Pope. Mercifully, Bella Donna was prompt. It showed respect and discipline. Although Adele was a former Thief, these were traits she could respect even in an Assassin.

"_Merci beaucoup_," the matriarch said graciously, taking Adele's hands and kissing her cheeks. "I know dis ain't de best of circumstances, and wit' de vote comin', you must have so many people callin'."

"We always make time for de Mistress," Adele replied evenly.

She led Belle into the living room and offered her tea and sweets. Belle took only what was politely allowed and complimented Adele on her beautiful home.

"Ain't what you're used to, I'm sure," the Thief shrugged, "But it's home."

"Did m' ex ever come t' call?"

"No, maim. T'ink I'm a little too old for Remy – elixir or _non_. He an' I ran in different circles… But Jean-Luc came from time t' time. I t'ink if he'd had more time wit' Honor, she woulda visited. Just imagine how much _easier_ dis would be for you den."

Belle gripped her tea cup, but her face never faltered.

Adele smiled.

"_Mais_," Belle said, "I hope you won't punish Honor for what I done when I was young. I see now dat he wasn't a threat t' my girl, but I didn't see it den. I only _ever_ done what I t'ought was best for her."

"Long live de _true_ matriarch of de Guilds!" Adele spat, almost cruelly. "I'd _never_ punish Honor for what you done. _You_ do dat well enough!"

Belle leapt to her feet. "Deny me if you choose! But I ain't gonna stand here an' be called a bad mother!"

Adele stood and stepped towards her guest. "_Non_, de only one wit' de _balls_ t' do dat was Sanchez! An' you held him down and had him exiled and tried t' kill him! If dat's how you treat your friends, I won't be among dem."

"You t'ink bringin' Selene int' de Guild will help you? How?"

"Puttin' another queen in de mix puts me lower on de pole, but I'm use t' it. Helps me by puttin' _you_ lower on de pole. Welcome t' a world where you _ain't_ de sun an' moon."

.::.

_Cairo  
_I awoke from my vision-induced haze, and found myself on a narrow, stiff cot. After drifting through a world where time and reality cease to exist, the small, hot room left oddly liberating. All my visions had bled together: faces and voices and places mixing together with bright colors, overlapping sounds, and out-of-place objects that could only be symbolic. I was extremely relieved to be in the here and now. I was still at the safe-house, being tended by Samira. At the first flutter of my eyes, she was holding my hand and softly calling me back to life. Whether _she_ knew it or not, I knew she'd taken a shine to me. But I knew this from her soft, pretty face, and not because of my visions. Apparently, nursing me had softened her heart, and now she hoped that kindness would be returned.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

"…Thirsty…" I croaked.

She helped me sit up and drink some water.

"How long was I out?" I asked.

"Sixteen hours."

"_Sixteen-?_ Sweet Jesus!"

We were now terribly behind schedule. I hadn't called New Orleans to check in, so Momma would be worried. Worse, if Papa had made good on his threat, he was now breathing hard down her back… or on a plane to Cairo.

I returned my attention to Samira and asked: "Have you been with me this whole time?"

"I… You needed _someone_. And… it wasn't all bad. You talked a lot; it was entertaining. I got to hear all about your family."

"Well," I sat up and looked at her closely. "You know all about me, and I don't know anything about you."

She blushed. "Shall I fetch your friends?"

_Friends?_

Sure enough, Vaughn and Chaucer entered the door at her bidding. I looked between them and waited for an explanation.

"Feelin' b-b-better?" Chaucer asked.

"Yes," I re-arranged my shirt, which had been tangled in my sleep. "What happened?"

Vaughn smiled proudly and put a hand on Samira's shoulder. "Sammy here convinced de others t' help me acquire de meds you needed… And de burners, de tubes, de needles…"

I panicked. _Needles?_

"Not t' worry, _chere_, I sanitize."

"What…" I was almost too afraid to ask. "What did you _give_ me?"

"A lithium benzodiazepine compound! A lil' bit a' Valium… lil' bit a' Ativan… Seemed t' get it right."

My eye brows pushed my hair back. "Vaughn! You… you _made_ my _cure_? In an Egyptian back alley, while being held hostage? You… You're amazing!"

"Dat's de Valium talkin'," he shrugged.

"No!" I insisted. "Most people have no idea how to _spell_ benzodiazepine! And you managed to _siphon_ it from _other_ medications… Which were most likely illegally obtained, and therefore most likely tainted… But then you mixed it, creating a new compound, which you administered in non-lethal doses! _Vaughn! _How did you _know_?"

"Trust me," he said, quietly trying to deflect my praise. "I know dis stuff for all de wrong reasons."

"Well… Thank God you do."

"If you're all done _worshipping_ each other, we got work to do," Pip called from the door way.

I hated to admit it, but he was right. This time, Chaucer agreed to help. He made a list of everything he'd found in the Casket and described it. He sold the bounty as a whole to a man on the black market. Undoubtedly, this man sold all the pieces separately and at a higher price. I desperately wanted to know if anyone had collected all the pieces… If anyone _else_ was hunting our prey… But I had to be careful how much I used my powers. In other words, I was forced to rely on my friends.

..

Mr. Tariq had re-located _twice_ since Chaucer traded with him. Luckily, we had Samira and her bandit friends to help. Chaucer didn't even know the man's name, and if he had – we wouldn't have been able to inquire his whereabouts because we were foreigners. But Sam knew just who and how to ask. We followed our man to Alexandria, which is just far enough away from Cairo to frighten me. My friends – both new and old – moved like professionals. _Nothing_ frightened them. My boys moved around like they were in New Orleans. Pip broke into buildings and Ayaan hot-wired cars like they need never fear apprehension.

Even with their support, I felt blind without my Sight.

While Pip, Sam and Zu questioned the plump, ignorant trader, I confided in Chaucer.

"I wish I hadn't gotten burned out so early… I shouldn't've worried so much about pick-pockets. We can handle them! Then you could've just made the list, and we could go from there. Cut out this _hunting_ bull-shit."

"I s-s-should've told you de t-t-truth, 'On. I'm s-s-sorry."

"No… If we hadn't run into Pip and his posse, we would've really been up a creek."

"B-b-but if you h-h-hadn't gotten burned out, dey w-w-wouldn't've helped us."

There was a pause while Vaughn joined Ayaan and Azim in a game of jacks. He offered to play for our stolen money, but Azim only laughed, "You got nothing to give us when you lose, _homme_!"

"I know I t-t-talk like an idiot," Chaucer quietly told me. "B-b-but I ain't s-s-stupid. You h-h-hopin' t' find de c-c-contents so de Guild l-l-love you again. Den my p-p-pop walkin' 'round wit' a t-t-target on his back. I ain't g-g-gonna let dat happen."

I thought quickly and silently. Then I replied: "I've had a target on my back since birth. Your father finally got an arrow to his bow, and took the shot. Now I've got precious little time to move the target. I suppose you think I get what I deserve… Just like Vaughn does."

"I'm n-n-nothin' like Vaughn! It's easy t' l-l-like you, 'On. But he's m-m-my father. What d' y-you expect?"

"Really?" I perked up. "It's easy to like me?"

"_Oui_," he smiled. "You a p-p-pretty girl. But you ain't s-s-scared t' get dirty. Easy t-t-t' like girls like dat. But Pop… He's a-a-all I got now."

"What happened to your mother?" I asked cautiously.

"You de psychic. You t-t-tell me, an' we'll b-b-both know."

I let the silence between us be filled with the sounds of the market and tour busses and Vaughn's complaints as he repeatedly lost a child's game.

"I like you, too," I said after a while.

"_Non_."

"No?"

"_Non_," Chaucer shook his head and left. "I ain't c-c-clever enough t' d-d-dance wit' you."

I smiled to myself and thought, '_Too late'._

…

_New Orleans  
_Belle returned home and found a strange car in the drive.

_LeBeau._

If there's one thing she didn't need right now – it was _him_. He'd undoubtedly heard about Honor being in Egypt – Jean-Luc's spies were still active – and showed up after months of alienation, expecting to reclaim things as if he had a right! She stormed in, prepared for a fight. How dare he invite himself into her home! How dare he try to divide what she so painfully put and held together! Inside, Rogue and LeBeau were already quarrelling. They didn't even acknowledge Belle, although they clearly saw her. Upon closer inspection, Belle noticed dark circles around both their eyes. They were having some trouble. When Becca tried to calm her parents, Remy snapped at her as if she were a noisy dog. The poor girl immediately burst into tears: tears that never stopped and could never be fully shed. Belle took both twins upstairs to play with Hero's toys while downstairs, insanity reigned.

…

_Cairo  
_The easiest piece to find was the golden blade. It was eight inches long and solid gold from summit to base. The handle was lined with instructions in hieroglyphics, and they were rather gruesome: slice the eyes, remove the tongue, cut out the heart, stomach, liver and intestines. Miraculously, it ended up in a museum, where it had been dated to Biblical times. Although no one could be _certain_, experts were sure the instrument was used in ceremonial mummification processes. Since it was in a museum, the security was rather lack-luster, even if it was the world-famous Egyptian Antiquities Museum. The simplicity of the job was the reason we chose to pinch it first. Of course, the down-side was that the incident would be reported, and if we had any competitors, they'd know about our mission. I told myself I was being paranoid. While I quickly copied the museum's translations, Pip and his friends worked to steal the golden blade. It was part of our agreement, after all. We came and left like shadows. No one even suspected a robbery until the next morning, when the museum doors opened to the public.

"What will you do with it?" I asked Samira – as if it were her decision. "Sell it again? Will be harder to do this time."

She shrugged. "We'll break it down if we have to."

"Should fetch a pretty penny. You could use the funds to come visit me in the States… If you wanted."

She blushed and smiled.

Before we moved on to our next mark, we stopped at another safe-house to rest and eat and bathe. It was the first time in three days I had the chance to shower, and I used the privilege liberally. Sam, Ayaan and I gathered in the community shower and used expired Pert Plus shampoo on our hair... Mine was nearly shoulder-length and tended to get dry; Sam's was long and oily; Ayaan's, nappy and extra dry… All different hair, and somehow we all looked worse afterwards. We giggled and blew foam at each other like a bunch of kids. I even got them to join in a chorus of "Surrender" by Cheap Trick. I wasn't really surprised when Vaughn "accidently" walked in and compared us to a rainbow, but I was pleasantly surprised when Chaucer boxed his ears and drug him out, grumbling again about manners.

"Is one of them your lover?" Ayaan asked me.

.::.

Renegade struggled for several minutes before mastering an international call from a pay phone. When he finally got the phone to ring, he worried Momma wouldn't answer.

"I been so worried, _cher_!" She sighed. "How m' babies? Honor dere?"

"'Course she's here, Momma. Where else she gonna be? You t'ink I leave her at de airport?"

"Why ain't she called?"

"She been busy, Momma. We… ran int' a lil' problem. No worries. We work it out. How it goin' dere?"

"I'm takin' care a' my end. Ya'll just take care t' be back b'fore de vote. And be careful. I keep you in my prayers."

Renegade smiled. He was not use to people thinking about him when he wasn't with them; it was a new thing and he enjoyed it. It was the reason he stayed with her.

"Dat t'ing we discussed…" Momma said, "How's it goin'?"

Momma had three children, but to hear her talk, you'd think she only had one. Honor was the eldest, the first-born, and the most prized. Renegade knew he had no right to expect equal treatment with his foster-sister: she was Momma's biological child and had been with her the longest. Even Hero was a distant second for Momma's love. For many years, Honor stood with her against the rest of the world. They had a bond Renegade could only envy. Once again, Momma was thinking of Honor. She'd asked Renegade to ensure Honor cozied up to Chaucer. Nothing obscene, mind; she was still a young girl with a reputation to maintain. But part of winning Gaston's vote was in winning Chaucer's heart.

"Well…" Renegade didn't want to bear the bad news. "She tryin', Momma, really. He nice an' all dat, but he don't trust her."

"_Merde_! I was hopin' dis trip would change dat… Remember dat _other_ t'ing we discussed?"

Of course he did. She was referring to the 'love spell' she'd taught him. Supposedly, it was heavy stuff, not to be used lightly. Renegade didn't think it was more than silly Southern superstition, but Momma said his belief wasn't required. Only his hand.

"'Course, Momma," he replied, "I handle it."

"_Merci_, _cher_," she sounded relieved. "You make me so proud. I knew I could count on you."

He was elated. He couldn't help himself. "I love you, Momma."

"I love you, too, _mon cher_. Come home safe."

.::.

Our second mark was much more challenging. It was the sort of pitch that would've made my father's heart quicken, but I was in a hurry with too much baggage. It became apparent that Pip and his friends were just as good as we were, but we couldn't _all_ infiltrate the building. Still, we required a mixed team… At least one of my crew to copy the information, and at least one of Pip's to pinch the bounty. We were after an ivory lyre with eagle heads on either ends. It was obviously too pretty to play, too expensive for a museum, and too precious to sell. Mr. Tariq said this was the most expensive item, but earned him nothing. First it was _stolen_ from Mr. Tariq, and then sold to a mediator, who delivered it to a bounty hunter named Sekmeht Conoway.

I was implored to use my precognitive skills in locating this lyre and consented. I learned only what I needed, but later I was taught that the bare essentials aren't always enough…

_Ms. Conoway lived in a mansion in Giza. Her home was almost like a castle: even more impressive that Xavier's. In lieu of running children and a secret basement for combat training, Ms. Conoway had ancient artifacts and priceless knowledge. Her security system was not as complex as Xavier's, but complex enough that I used my psychic eye to anticipate our obstacles. _

For this job, _I_ was the eyes. Chaucer was my body guard, in case I should relapse and become a liability again. Ayaan – Pip decided – was the girl for the job. She was quick, agile, and would undoubtedly sacrifice Chaucer and me to save her own skin. The three of us broke in through a vent on the roof. I warned Ayaan of the motion detectors. We hacked the code to the safe.

_That's when I became aware of eyes. Cameras were watching us, but not recording. On the other side of the monitor stood Ms. Conoway._

_She knew me._

_But how? I didn't know her._

_She grabbed a plasma gun and silently glided through the halls towards the safe._

Ayaan examined the lyre. It was flawless. The ivory had lasted through the ages, still as smooth as cream. The instrument was a foot or so long without holes for playing. I'd _thought_ it was too pretty to actually use. The eagle heads of Horus were made of gold with rubies at the eyes. Ayaan was hypnotized. She'd _never_ held anything so beautiful. I saw the greed shine in her brown eyes, and I let it fester there. One day, she would betray Pip as Tess had betrayed me, but first I had to let the seeds find fertile soil.

There was a footfall behind, and we all turned to find Ms. Conoway with her weapon aimed.

"Put it back," she snarled. "Hands were I can see 'm."

Ayaan didn't comply, but she didn't run, either.

I walked towards Ms. Conoway, startling her. She was beautiful: late twenties, olive skin with hair so black it was blue and green cat-eyes that could never kill. A true Egyptian.

"Hold it right there, LeBeau!"

I stopped. "How do you know me?"

She smiled. "You weren't the LeBeau I was expecting, but then again… He _always_ did like to keep us on our toes."

I wanted very badly to know the answer to her riddle.

_Sekmeht sat alone in her condo. Unable to sleep, she decided to watch some television in the living room. Something heavy occupied her thoughts. Later, she got a drink, and when she returned to the couch, she was no longer alone. Remy took off his coat, walked towards her very slowly, and propped a knee on the cushion beside her. Like a flower opening for the sun, she already had her back arched and her lips slightly parted. There was no effort in this encounter. Some things, like the ocean meeting the sand, are just destined to be._

"_I need you…"_

I shuttered.

Ms. Conoway lowered her weapon. "Are you all right?"

Looking at her, I couldn't help but apologize.

"For what?" she asked, back on guard.

I smiled sadly. "Because of all the things my father _should've_ told you… _That_ was the most important. You're too generous."

Her green, feline eyes glassed over. Her body froze, though she was unaware of it. When she regained her senses, we were long gone. Outside, I took the lyre from Ayaan and gently removed the golden eagle head. I replaced the head and returned the instrument to her after gently extracting a papyrus letter from the device. _Again_, in hieroglyphics.

Chaucer gently rested a hand on my shoulder. "You've b-b-been relyin' on your p-p-powers a lot… Are you g-g-gonna be all right?"

I smiled and held his heavy arm. "I'll be safe as long as I'm with you."

…

_We were running out of time. _

_There was precious little time left… It closed in on me like a shadow that starts off small and engulfs the night. I could see the sun racing below the horizon. As the light slipped away, so did my chances for survival. I grasped at the last fleeting seconds as I dying man gasps for air._

We still lacked nine items: seven, still in Africa. None left in Egypt. And no time to acquire them. But we had to make due.

The day after we acquired the lyre, I made it our goal to translate the hidden message. Naturally, Pip and his friends cared little for the paper, and left us to it. A quick push and I could've used my powers to translate and _understand_ the ancient riddle, but Chaucer _insisted_ I not use my powers. Reluctant as I was, I had to agree with him. The last thing I needed was another relapse. So we did things the old-fashioned way. We sealed the brittle material between two glass tablets and busied ourselves with the tedious translation. I had Vaughn and Chaucer translate the ancient Egyptian into Greek using Rosetta technology. Then I translated the Greek into English.

_Anubis approaches; life ebbs.  
The heart lighter than a feather is a kingdom unto itself.  
Only the heart may pass into the afterlife.  
River floods rushing high, present a feast for blue crocodiles.  
Inside the gate is the key.  
Anubis turns around.  
Life flows by the key._

"Mean anyt'ing t' you?" Vaughn asked me with a raised brow.

"_Homme_," I groaned and rubbed my eyes, "Not a damned t'ing…"

…

While the safe-house submitted to brief slumber, smoke infiltrated the largest room, which served as both bedroom and kitchen. In a tight corner, Pip slept with one eye opened and both hands clutching his prizes.

'Hold on as tight as you want,' thought Renegade, 'I'll get them yet.'

He quickly materialized before the smell woke anyone up. Honor had fallen asleep while working on translations. Her hand was stained with ink. Rather predictably, Samira removed her work utensils and put a blanket over her. Renegade had been watching them for four days now, and felt he knew them better than they knew themselves. With affection, he placed a small, white candle in his sister's right hand. In the morning, Chaucer would be the first one to find her… Well, the first one who dared _touch_ her anyway. He'd pick up the candle, hoping it wasn't still burning, and she'd wake up. When their eyes met, they'd be in love.

Supposedly.

…

I probably hadn't gotten four hours of sleep when I was startled back to consciousness. I was too tired to even dream of Tess…

"Sorry!" Vaughn whispered through the darkness. He raised a burning cigarette. "Want one?"

"Thanks," I whispered back and pulled the blanket tightly around my shoulders. I assumed he'd placed it there, but before I could realize how stupid that was of me (he'd sooner put a scorpion on me than a blanket), my hand stumbled across something.

A white candle.

"You give me this?" I asked and handed it to him.

He took the item and examined it.

"_Non_."

We stepped outside to avoid waking anyone else up and shared a smoke. It was a strangely intimate thing. We spoke casually about the stars and the cold air, and it felt like we were the only two people in the world.

"I never got t' tell you how terrible I felt about your Momma's death," he told me when the cigarette was almost finished.

I shook my head. "You don't need to apologize. It wasn't your fault."

"_Mais_… It kinda was. I… I asked God t' kill your Momma every night for _months_. I didn't ask for not'ing else. And den it happened. And… And I just felt so guilt 'bout it."

"God doesn't work that way."

"I only did it 'cause she was seein' my Pop. My parents would argue about it a lot. Dre and I'd overhear 'm. Momma would _beg_ him not t' go. I just – I _never_ hated anyone so much. But I didn't really want her t' die, 'On. I just wanted my father t' be a good husband. I realized later, after m' folks split up, dat he wasn't never a good man. And your Momma had not'ing t' do wit' dat."

Even though it was dark, I knew he had tears in his eyes. And although _he_ was the one confessing horrible and intimate things, _I_ felt naked. I'd never felt so… _stripped_. I literally felt as if someone had ripped my front away, leaving my heart defenseless, and the only way to feel whole again was to pull him close. I put a hand over his, pulling away the cigarette (which was completely ash), and throwing it on the ground.

"I never told you what it meant to me…" I said, "When you sent the rosary…"

He turned away and rubbed his eyes. I continued to speak as if I hadn't noticed.

"I've killed a lot of people. A lot of people have killed _for_ me. But there aren't many people who've _risked_ their lives for me. I've worn it every day since my Papa brought it back." I fidgeted nervously with said item, which I wore like a belt. "Do you want to know a secret?" I dared confess, "When I wear it… it reminds me of you."

"Really?"

I nodded.

He stepped closer and gently held the little, black crucifix that rested on my joint where the thigh and crotch meet. My skin burned where his fingers touched, and I felt a sickening urge between my legs. I tried to remind myself that Vaughn was not my friend. He had tormented me, berated me – and only _pretended_ to be my friend whenever we were alone. But I could not shake this feeling of _yearning_. His honey-colored eyes lifted from my pelvis and peered into my mind.

"Now what?" he asked.

_What a dope!_ I thought. _This is the part where you kiss me!_

I caught the fleeting scent of smoke, and just that quickly, the spell broke. I realized I was caught up in lust, and that I'd be _devastated_ if anyone found out about this. My family would be shamed; Gi would be heartbroken. I'd already ruined one love relationship for lust – I wouldn't fall into _that_ trap again.

Stilling my nerves, I replied: "We need to solve the riddle. I can't do it without my powers, but Chaucer's right… I really should give it a rest."

He looked stunned, then pissed. "Any ideas?"

I pulled the blanket back around my shoulders, shielding my body like I couldn't shield my heart. "Conoway."

"Sekmeht Conoway? Why de hell would _she_ help us?"

"I'll offer to return her lyre," I said easily. "Should be tempting enough."

He bit his lip. "You gonna pull dat, you'd better do it b'fore anyone finds out."

.::.

The sun peered into the windows of the safe-house. _Once Pip realized his lyre was missing, and later that Vaughn and Honor were gone, he knew he'd been double-crossed. For some reason, the pair left Chaucer behind. Pip didn't understand why and never stopped to question it. The three of them had a bizarre tri-lationship. For all Pip knew, the girl was with Chaucer and decided she wanted to leave him for Vaughn. The forbidden lovers stole his lyre as get-away funds, and left Chaucer to be beaten to death. _And that's exactly what would happen._ The little thug put a gun to Chaucer's temple and shouted at him in his native tongue, not caring that the stuttering idiot didn't understand him. There was chaos. Samira was pleading with Pip; Azim and Ayaan were already on the lyre's trail. Zu grabbed a baton and started beating Chaucer. The white man bled and bruised easily._

_The house filled with smoke. At first, it was tolerable. But then it became apparent that the house was on fire, and staying inside was no longer an option. They never saw flames, but condemned the white man to die by them and fled._

_After they left, Renegade appeared and helped Chaucer to his feet._

"_Let's go, buddy; we gotta move!"_

…

It was dawn by the time we reached Giza. Vaughn drove the entire way; I was his navigator. Sleep deprived and anxious, I was forced to tap my powers. What good is a map you can't read? What good is memorizing the way if your enemies lie in wait around the corner? Whenever he thought my mind was drifting, he'd ask me to find a radio station or tell me some little secret. He was allergic to cats and afraid of Neil Diamond. His little conversations didn't alleviate my guilt. What would happen to Chaucer when Pip and the others woke up and discovered Vaughn and I missing, along with the lyre? Renegade stayed behind, so he wasn't alone… But still. With more regret, I thought of Samira. She'd been so kind to me, and risked her own neck to help us. Now we were robbing her blind and abandoning her. Small wonder, I realized then, that people like Tess exist. They existed because of people like _me_. What had happened to that thirteen-year-old punk who could rob and slaughter and seduce without remorse? Who was this young woman who put the feelings of a new acquaintance above the success of a mission?

"Honori?" Vaughn beckoned me back. "You wit' us?"

I smiled calmly. "She's drinking coffee in the kitchen. She's alone and unarmed. I suggest we knock on the door this time."

"You de psychic."

.

_To Be Continued…_

.

**Author's Notes: **Julien's "widow", Miss Emily, was never actually married to him. He was Belle's younger brother, and thus died before he (or Emily) were of age. However, they _were_ betrothed. I got the name "Miss Emily" from a William Faulkner story entitled _A Rose for Emily_, which is set in the old South and focuses on an unstable woman obsessed with the past. The short story touches almost all things creepy, including necrophilia. And I don't know _why_, but I thought she sounded like the perfect match for Julien! Another useless detail: when Renegade first entered the story, I had no intention of keeping him around. He was intended to be a footnote, really. Enter homeless boy, and exit. But he had such personality, I knew he could fill a void in the team and in Honor's personal life. Honestly, though, even I'm shocked at how well he's rounded out.


	7. The One She Held Closest to Her Heart

**Disclaimer: **I do not own.

**The Ballad of Honor and Tess**

**The One She Held Closest to Her Heart**

_Trouble he will find you no matter where you go,  
No matter if you're fast, no matter if you're slow.  
The eye of the storm or the cry in the mourn,  
You're fine for a while but you start to lose control._

He's there in the dark, he's there in my heart.  
He waits in the wings, he's gotta play a part.  
Trouble is a friend, yeah trouble is a friend of mine!  
~Trouble Is A Friend, Lenka

…

_New Orleans  
_Frederick Daumier was accustomed enough to collect phone calls. He was a Thief, after all. At forty, he had the misfortune of having both a brother and son in prison. Everyone knew Franco was a bad apple, but Frederick's heart broke when his own _son_ failed his initiation. Clayton had survived: for that, he was thankful. All the clan's hopes were placed on young André, and when he was killed, it seemed Clan Daumier would fade from the Guild altogether. But then Vaughn was accepted into the Beaumont division. They weren't as impressive or wealthy as their New Orleans counterpart… But it was a start. The boy quickly found himself a position: not easy to do without a sponsor. Oh, he was a clever one. Now Vaughn had _truly_ outdone himself! Frederick had gotten him the Egyptian job with the matriarch, sure; but Vaughn had gotten _himself_ a place in Honor's favor. Best of all, no one knew about it – not even Bella Donna, who prided herself on knowing _everything_ about her family.

"What about de brother?" Frederick asked during the call. He knew Renegade kept no secrets from his adopted mother. If the boy suspected anything, she would know everything.

"He been in hidin' since we got here," Vaughn replied. "Honor been in contact wit' him, but I ain't _seen_ him."

"Good. And Chaucer? How's de girl 'round him?"

Vaughn laughed through his nose. "She treat him like a dirty room she been told t' clean."

"Excellent. You mustn't push her, though. You haven't tried to kiss her or hold her hand or… anyt'ing more _progressive_, have you?"

"_Non, Oncle_," he sighed. "She come on t' me."

"Oh, son, dat's-"

"No worries, Oncle Frederick. She do de same t'ing t' Chauce and half de girls here. Don't mean not'ing by it."

"_Mais_, if anyone should see it-"

"No one sees us t'gether. Look, I gotta go."

"You done good, Vaughn. You de best dis clan _ever_ done."

And he meant it. It was no easy task to seduce a girl without _seducing_ her… A gesture here, a half-promise there. Deception was the name of the game, and it survived by isolation and ignorance. As long as Bella Donna and Gaston were pursuing a marriage between their children (which Frederick wasn't supposed to know about), Honor wouldn't say a word about Vaughn. Frederick had learned long ago how this game was played. Everyone was a pawn. But even the Queens had ears to hear and flesh to please. The day would come when Clan Daumier would reclaim the throne, and Gaston was an idiot to think Madame Selene would help him. A victory of this scale required much more subtly than that. For God's sake, the _last_ thing the Guild needed was an immortal Bella Donna! When she came to Frederick to request his vote – as he knew she would – he asked for nothing much: just enough money to get his son out of prison. He didn't even ask for Franco's bail. She claimed she got the money from Gaston, but that was a lie. Bella Donna got the money from her ex-husband, but Frederick wasn't supposed to know that, either. If she'd gone through the Guild, she would've been denied as he'd been. Clayton was in jail for running drugs, which was strictly off-limits in the Guilds. The decision wasn't based on morale; there was simply too much competition. Once the word got out that she'd gone around the Guild (instead of _through_ it), and lied to a Council member about the source of the funds, she would need Frederick's help to redeem herself.

.::.

_Giza  
_Sekmeht didn't throw open her door and welcome us with open arms. Understandable. But I did think the nerve gas was a little un-called for. And the hand-cuffs? Just ridiculous! I'd been picking locks since the _womb_. I spent more time admiring her little dungeon than I did trying to escape.

"Any _other_ brilliant ideas?" Vaughn sulked as we limped into her state-of-the-art kitchen.

We helped ourselves to her food in the kitchen. He dug out some fruit and bread while I put on a pot of coffee and briefly considered using her phone to call home. I decided against it. Vaughn would overhear every word. Instead, I removed the ivory lyre from my pants and placed it on the counter in plain view.

_Come out; come out wherever you are…_

"I'm listening."

I heard her voice, but I didn't know where it came from. I already had a headache; this was no time to use my powers.

"We need you to do more than _listen_," I said. "We don't care about this lyre – you can have it! We needed the instructions inside it. But… the instructions are more like a riddle. It's for my father, and I'm running out of time! He's in trouble. If I don't figure this out in time… He could be in _big_ trouble."

A few moments later, she appeared with her weapon aimed.

"Leave it on the table," she said. "And go into the other room with your hands were I can see them."

We obeyed, moving slowly.

A few moments later, she returned without the lyre. Her gun was still aimed dead steady at my heart.

"Let's see it," she said.

I pulled out a translation and copy of the original. The notebook paper was folded in eighths, and I unfolded it before I held it out.

"Put it on the ground and both of you move to the formal dining room. Keep your hands where I can see them."

"You mind lowerin' dat t'ing?" Vaughn snapped. "Or at least puttin' de safety on?"

"So you can ambush me?" she retorted. "I don't think so. Now move."

"Den how 'bout pointin' it at me for a change?"

My head turned to look at him so quickly that she flinched. Her gun bounced between Vaughn and me. She was as easily startled as a fawn.

Very slowly, we moved into the appointed room.

"How does this affect Remy?" she called out.

My stomach knotted. I was reluctant to share our secrets with her, but how could she help me unless I told her what I already knew?

"We have a prophecy… A very old prophecy that hails from Egypt. It tells of a messiah who will destroy all evil things on the earth and re-establish the Old Kingdom. Supposedly… That messiah is…"

"Remy?" She offered, impatiently.

"Or Honor," Vaughn added.

"That's your name?" She spoke, still unseen in the other room. "Honor? He never mentioned you. But we didn't talk too much about his _personal_ life."

"Anyway, I really need to figure out how he… or I'm… supposed to resurrect the Old Kingdom."

"Why?" She entered the room and threw the paper at my feet. "Some things are better left buried."

"Because there's a vampire trying to seduce a _lot_ of people that my father and I care about! This might be the _only_ way to defeat her!"

Sekmeht looked at me long and hard. I wasn't intimidated by her, but I used my eyes to plead with her.

_You're my last hope._

"Anubis is the God of Death," she said at last. "Life and death are in constant battle. Nothing lives forever, but life itself never dies. It talks about the heart being lighter than a feather… The ancients believed that only the pure of heart would pass into the afterlife. The Gods separated the pure from the wicked by a scale. Those heavier than a feather were fed to crocodiles, and didn't pass into the afterlife. You incorrectly translated a word here. Anubis doesn't 'turn around'; he retreats. Death retreats from the pure hearted. That other non-sense about a gate and a key… Means nothing to me. If I had to _guess_, I'd say once the pure hearted passes into the afterlife, he returns with something. He defeats death and returns with the key. The key to what… I couldn't say. And it's only a guess."

"It's only one piece of de puzzle," Vaughn told me. "We need all de pieces t' see de picture…"

I tightly closed my eyes. "We're out of _time_."

Vaughn helped himself to a cup of coffee, which greatly upset our host. She wanted us to stand before her, cowering in fear. But we'd seen our share of cold-blooded killers, and she was no more frightening to us that a dragonfly. Again, her gun bounced between us before deciding Vaughn was the greater threat. I wondered if that wasn't his intention. Undisturbed, he presented me with a cup of _café au lait_ and invited me to take a seat at Sekmeht's table.

"Look," he said calmly, "De Guild been tryin' t' figure dis t'ing out for centuries. You ain't gonna solve it t'day. You only had t' find de contents, and ya did."

"_Some_ of them," I reminded him.

He took a seat beside me. "And ya woulda gotten _more_ if Chaucer told de truth. He compromised de mission. De Guild won't like dat."

"Vaughn, what if it's not _enough_?"

We were engrossed in our conversation, but not so distracted that we didn't see Sekmeht lower her weapon. She stepped closer to us: just out of reach. If I'd wanted to overpower her, this would be the chance. But we never acknowledged her change in position. I only knew Vaughn noticed because his shoulders loosened. Always good to know someone's tells.

"What's de worst t'ing dat happen?" He asked me. "De Guild goes back t' de way it always been. You get a chance at immortality. We gotta pay taxes, but dat ain't no t'ing."

This was a side to him I'd never seen: confident and fearless, no trace of anger or greed. I felt like I could face anything with him by my side.

So I did.

"I could use my powers," I said. "Then I could understand the riddle without all the pieces. I just need to figure out the key and the gate! It's only a _little_ piece!"

"You been overworked," he warned.

"It's okay. If I get lost again… I know you'll find me."

.::.

"Why we g-g-got t-t-t' help her?" Chaucer asked bitterly.

Renegade had to drive while Chaucer tended to his wounds. He wasn't in bad shape. His injuries could've been much worse, but he was still plenty pissed off at Honor and Vaughn.

"She got de passports," he reminded his wounded comrade. "We not gonna get far wit'out _dem_."

"_M-m-mother_-!"

The younger boy smiled to himself, thinking fondly of a pissed-off Porky the Pig. Chaucer inherited _none_ of his father's strength.

"I real sorry we had to do it," Renegade called over his shoulder. After taking a moment to check the area, he briefly held up the golden blade they'd helped pinch from the museum.

"I w-w-was de _d-d-distraction_?"

"Said I real sorry. Honor sorry, too. She wanted t' leave Vaughn, but I afraid he sell us out t' save himself. We gonna meet up wit' dem in Giza, and head on t' de airport. Den you be home free, eh?"

There was a pause while Chaucer put away the components of a first-aid kit. Then he asked: "Did she r-r-really wanna l-l-leave Vaughn?"

…

_New Orleans  
_Belle was shocked by Pierre's request. Sex, money, or favors: she would have agreed to those. She'd already played out most of her resources on the hope that she could depend on killers and thieves. But she'd spent her time and effort on those hardest to convince, and came to Pierre DuPont last, knowing the lecherous old man would want to pinch her bottom and see her breasts. But for once she was wrong.

"_Non_, can't get it up no more, Belle… Alas, I be born fifty years too early!" He gave her a toothless grin and laughed so that she could hear the dust rattle in his lungs.

She pulled away. "So what d'you want for your vote in m' favor? You do know dere a vote comin'-?"

"_Oui, oui_! I ain't as stupid as I pretend t' be!"

She wasn't so sure, but kept that to herself.

"I 'member when you in school, b'fore you got married," Pierre said lazily. "And your brother played ball, you 'member?"

"Yes, I recall." She sat by him patiently. If all he wanted was companionship, she had that to give.

"What was his name? Marius?"

"Marius was m' father. You thinkin' a' Julien."

"Dat's right! Julien! You know, de mind wanders where it will, but I 'member you, Belle! I 'member you in dat lil' cheerleadin' outfit. 'Member?"

"Yes, I remember."

"Some nights it so cold your nips shown t'rough!" He roared with laughter and slapped her knee. When he should have withdrawn his hand, he left it, and Belle began to catch his meaning. "You still got dat outfit?"

She tried not to look mortified. "Why would I t'row out a perfectly good dress?"

She performed the entire routine in just her skirt, knee-high socks and sneakers. The old pervert _could've_ recorded her shameless performance, but mercifully did not. It was just the two of them alone in his living room with pictures of his late wife and grandchildren watching from faded silver frames. Afterwards, he applauded with weak hands and gave her another toothless grin.

"You just as pretty as a dove!"

She tried not to break her smile, although his eyes were firmly on her bare breasts, so it wouldn't have really mattered. The spark of life was still in his beady eyes when she dropped her pom-poms, grabbed a jacket, and made him promise again to vote in her favor. The she went home and showered until her skin turned raw.

.::.

The silly thing about prophecies… They're only meant to be understood in hindsight. You don't believe them until you have a reason to, but after they come true you're left wondering what you could've done differently. What you _should've_ done. But honestly, why didn't the _Seer_ act different? Why do they only say what _will_ happen? Not what _should_ happen? Well, I would be more than an _observer_. I would change destiny if it could be done.

_Thousands and thousands of years ago, when people were not as stupid as we now like to claim… There was a tale that was ancient even then – about a mysterious blue stone that could never be held. Like an immortal, the stone searched through time and space for the one who could yield it. The stone had hopes just like any mortal man or creeping caterpillar. Unfulfilled dreams often have a way of making themselves unobtainable. The longer the stone was left to dream, the harder it became to satisfy. It had the power to grant any request. It was not limited to time or space, for it was older than these things. And all the lonely stone wanted in return as the right person in the right place at the right time…_

I tore myself from the vision gasping for air.

"_Mon Dieu_!"

"Are you all right?"

Sekmeht lent me the use of her guest bedroom, and even gave Vaughn her personal supply of Valium in case I should need it. She'd expected some parlor tricks and another attempted burglary, but showed me kindness for my father's sake.

"What'd you see?" Vaughn asked.

"I… I know what it wants… And it's not good."

"Better t' know what we're facin', ain't it?"

Reluctantly, I lay back down and closed my eyes.

It was watching.

_The stone knew me as well as I knew it. Once, it'd had great hopes for me, but that hope had died as bitterly as the rest. Only a servant completely devoted would earn it's heart. But who could find happiness with a rock? Timeless and powerful as it was, it was only a rock! Perhaps I could've been that servant when I was a child and wanted only company and protection. But I grew into a woman, and desired things like any woman. That sort of dedication requires a certain… soullessness. In addition to that, the stone wanted the correct time. It bounced back and forth at certain points in a certain rhythm like fingers across a keyboard. The stone didn't understand that people are more than __**coordinates**__. _

_I suppose it really didn't matter. With infinite time, places and dimensions, the stone was destined to find a suitable partner eventually._

_Through the eyes of a young Egyptian priestess, I foresaw the stone choosing a strange child with red eyes that burned like hot coal. This poor soul was the product of many warring clans, who united under one banner. After defeating death, the one with red eyes wished to unite all its clans under one sky. With power over life and death, it would tear open the gate between life and afterlife… Across the Nile, another priestess received a vision of crimson blood spilling over the banks. All the fish perished and washed ashore. A man rose from the water and walked ashore, and although he was missing all his organs, he did not mourn and lament. He was a willing sacrifice._

_I saw my father, dark and heavy with guilt. He was old and not himself. Something in his posture would not welcome his children with open arms; something in his eyes would not encourage a smile. He had not spoken her name in six years. Any surviving pictures had been snatched from the fire by her children, who didn't understand… She wasn't memorialized by cheap copies of her youth, but in them: in their eyes and words and style. They thought he was insane. Maybe they were right, but he wasn't so crazy that he forgot who deserved her love! He loved her children – his babies – until it drove him mad. He loved her friends and even her mother. He'd married again because she didn't want him to be alone. She wanted him to provide their kids with a good home, and after they left, he found another home. It's what she wanted._

_But he could never forgive Summers for her death. _

_She understood._

_And now his son had mixed blood with those back-bitters. Was it karma? He'd broken his father's heart when he fell in love with Bella Donna, and destroyed it when he left her. Yes, this was his punishment: his son had forgotten what Anna would've wanted. Well… He would be reminded. She would tell him herself!_

_When I saw my father again, I couldn't even recognize him. His skin was black like a roasted marshmallow that had been consumed by fire. His eyes weren't red or black, but white like his hair like a marshmallow. Jean-Luc knew it was the Elixir that caused this transformation in my father. For creating such a monster, he deserved to die. And my father deserved peace for battling the mad urges for so long._

_I recalled being eight-years-old and playing a game of chess with my grandfather. He told me that he'd sacrificed everything for the Guild: he'd watched wives grow old and die…_

_(He looked so old now.)_

_He'd buried children and grandchildren until he had only one son left. That child was lost to him: banished for the sake of the Guild…_

_(He never told my father how sorry he was. He only bore the burden.)_

_Now that he was in the dusk of his life, he regretted sacrificing his family. He wished he could do things differently, but it was too late for that. All he could do was pass his knowledge on to me…_

_(I never told him how wise I thought he was.)_

_Wait; did I have to leave so quickly? Our game wasn't finished yet. He only had one thing left to say. He knew he had no right to take me from my mother, but if I ever did anything so bad that I couldn't go home, I could always find a home with him…_

_And then he died in my arms, by my hand. I don't know if my tears and pleas for forgiveness brought him peace or solace in his final moments, or if he would be tormented for eternity with the final image of my tear-stained face._

…

I leapt weeping into Vaughn's arms. My heart was racing and my stomach tried to empty its contents. If I'd eaten anything, it would've been on Sekmeht's pretty bed. I must've spoken or something because they didn't demand an explanation.

"You wanna Valium?" Vaughn asked. His face was pale.

I shook my head 'no'.

"I'll get her some water," Sekmeht said and quickly ran downstairs.

She grabbed a glass from the cabinet and poured cool tap water until it was full. On second thought, the girl wasn't accustomed to any water outside of America, and could get sick. She emptied the glass and grabbed bottled water from the refrigerator. Unexpectedly, there was a knock on the door. Sekmeht froze and listened to the house. The young couple hadn't moved from the bedroom, but she wasn't expecting guests. Worse, she was still on edge from Honor's vision. This was no time to be short-sighted or stupid. She picked up her gun, checked the rounds, and then peaked through the security cameras. A black boy she didn't recognize… and the young man who'd been with Honor at the museum! He was in bad shape, too. What was this? A hospital for strays?

While Sekmeht was detained downstairs, Vaughn convinced me to take the Valium.

"Swear you won't repeat what you heard! _Swear it!"_ I demanded.

"I promise I'll never hurt you," he said firmly. He put the pill to my lips and I took it.

I pressed myself shamelessly into his arms. Please let me feel whole again. Hell, I'd even settle for feeling dirty! I just didn't want to feel this horrible… guilty… empty… like being raped again.

"You need t' calm down," he said with the same, firm tone. "Thinkin' about it's only makin' you more upset. Honor! Calm yourself."

"That's… that's how it ends?" I said, gripping on to his shirt. "Rogue dies and my pop finally loses it… And the only way to fix anything is for me to kill Jean-Luc? _That's_ how the Old Kingdom returns?"

"No one's gonna die or go nuts. It's just a vision… Our eyes play tricks, _non_? Who's t' say dis ain't a trick?" His fingers combed my hair. "You only kill Jean-Luc if ya want, how dat?"

I still wasn't entirely sure how the death, murder and insanity of my family factored into the return of the Momentary Princess and resurrection of the Old Kingdom – but I knew these things would happen within my lifetime. It was too much; too soon. I had no clue how to stop it from happening, but I knew a good place to start.

"We have to destroy the artifacts. In my vision, I killed Jean-Luc with the golden blade! But if we destroy it now-!"

"Hush yer noise. If you can't kill 'm wit' de golden blade, you just find another. Don't be stupid. We can find a way t' stop it – you and me. But you no help t' anyone right now. Just quiet down. You can stay here long as you like. You know you're safe wit' _me_, _non_?"

I had told Chaucer was I safe with him when I though Vaughn couldn't hear us. Obviously, he had. But truthfully, I did feel safe with Vaughn. He wasn't like anyone I'd ever known before, and I couldn't begin to understand him nor my feelings towards him.

"I am safe with you," I said softly.

My head lifted from his shoulder and our eyes locked. More than anything, I wanted to know what he was thinking, but the medication was already crippling my powers.

All I saw was his eyes.

…

"I couldn't understand everything she said, but she was very upset by what she saw." Sekmeht told Chaucer and Renegade.

"What'd she say?" asked Renegade.

When the woman looked unsure, Chaucer quickly said she could trust Renegade because he was Honor's brother. Clearly, she didn't believe that, either.

"She adopted," Renegade said with some irritation, "Dat why we don't look so much alike."

Now Sekmeht was ashamed of herself. "She spoke a lot about her father. In the near future, he's no longer himself. He's lost someone very dear to him, and means to bring her back by removing the barriers between life and death. I don't know if Honor tries to help him or hinder him… But whatever she's trying to do requires a willing sacrifice. She saw herself killing her father's father. She's upstairs now, if you'd like to see her. I was just getting her a glass of water when you arrived."

"You leave her wit' _Vaughn_?" Renegade asked bluntly.

Both parties looked at him strangely and Sekmeht asked: "Should I _not_ have?"

Chaucer headed upstairs.

…

I could see he wanted to kiss me again. But he was waiting for _me_ to kiss _him_. It was a little, chaste kiss that he didn't immediately return. When I pulled away, he grabbed me and kissed me hotly. I smiled before pressing my lips against his, and for a brief moment, we shared a kiss. The door flew open and Chaucer ran across the threshold. Behind him, I saw Sekmeht and Renegade. Vaughn and I tried to separate quickly, but we didn't move fast enough. Chaucer saw the act and the residual guilt on our faces. For a long, agonizing moment, no one spoke.

"We n-n-need t' go," Chaucer finally said.

"Chauce!" I tried to stop him, but Renegade pushed me back and slammed the door so that he, Vaughn and I were alone in the room.

"Dis stops _here_!" He said harshly. "You _know_ Momma's tryin' t' set you up! And you tryin' t' screw it all up! You t'ink she plan _one_ t'ing for me or Hero? You de only _hope_ she got! Don't you dare t'row it away! Not for _him_!"

I couldn't breathe.

"_Oui_, 'On," Vaughn said carelessly, "Don't act your age."

"You disgustin' shit!" Renegade rounded on my childhood bully. "She's sick in de head and you _kiss_ her? Givin' her all sorts of pills you got no right to give! Lyin' t' her 'bout how **sorry** you are... You're sorry, all right! Sorry sack of _shit!_ Go back t' Texas if you know what good for you! If Momma finds out what's been goin' on, you won't even have _dat_ t' go back to!"

"René," I dared to speak. "Nothing's been going on…"

"'On, he been talkin' wit' his _oncle_ in New Orleans. He _usin'_ you. Been playin' you since day one. De pills, de secrets, de game he been playin' wit' your head – it ain't nothin' but a ploy. De whole clan been getting' as close t' de crown as dey can t' steal it. I t'ought you smarter den dat, but I guess not."

His words struck me like a physical blow. Now I understood why Vaughn behaved so differently when we were in public. This also explained why I could never read him. He'd kept me drugged, yes, but he was also a master of deception. I was always looking in the wrong place for his intentions. I had resisted the truth, lied to myself – but Renegade would not lie to me. He hurt me now to spare me pain later. I felt so _stupid_. Renegade gripped my elbows painfully and his black eyes burned into mine.

"Listen t' your Momma," he said, "She knows what she doin'. She don't _ever_ hear 'bout dis, got it? Now go t' Chaucer an' make dis right!"

I found him outside smoking a cigarette. I didn't think he smoked, and it hurt me to think he was anything like Vaughn.

"Chauce?"

He looked at me with disgust.

I couldn't even speak to him.

"Don't w-w-worry," he finally said, exhaling a cloud of pale smoke. "I w-w-won't tell your m-m-momma."

"Why not? You could be free from me. You could disgrace my family, and Gaston could have the vote."

He shook his head. "I n-n-not gonna ruin your l-l-life over your hormones." He threw down his cigarette and smothered the butt with his shoe. "N-n-now what we g-g-gonna do 'bout dis v-v-vision?"

Renegade must've been listening the entire time, and took this chance to step outside with us. Vaughn was a few steps behind him, and stood alone as the outsider. I, too, felt ostracized, even though I stood centered among friends.

I turned to my brother and asked: "Do you have the original?"

He fetched me the paper, which was still encased in glass. I removed the delicate papyrus paper and charged it. It quickly caught fire and burned away to ashes. We all stood silently, watching a piece of our history wither and die.

"We can't be certain of anything," I said. "We found the contents and left them here because the Guild isn't ready to know. Whatever happens, I accept full blame. You three go to the airport; I'll meet you there. There's something I need to take care of first. René, the blade if you please."

…

I worried the three of them would try to kill each other. If they knew where I was going, they would've been worried, too. Since I left the ivory lyre with Sek, she agreed to drive the boys to the airport. I used Renegade's stolen car and my psychic abilities to track down Samira, who was still with Pip. I was exhausted and doped up. If my powers overwhelmed me now, there was no one to help, but I had to set things right. The little bandits were in Alexandria now, and already working on their next mark. If I'd had the time, I would've waited until night to make my move. There was no time to get her alone. From a rooftop, I watched them scout out a temple. They pretended to be strangers going about a normal day. Samira looked so sad. I waited until she was entering the building I stood over, and then dropped the golden blade into her open satchel. Ever weary of pickpockets, she jumped and looked around. But there was no one. By the time she looked up, I was gone.

.::.

_Vaughn and I were alone on Sekmeht's guest bed. I dared to kiss him softly, chastely. When he didn't respond, I pulled back. He grabbed my head and kissed me hotly. His lips were sweet and pleading, and I smiled as I kissed him back. Cautiously, he pressed me against the mattress. I didn't resist._

Renegade grabbed my shoulder and I jerked into consciousness.

"We home, sis," he said.

We were on the airplane, although all the passengers were standing, gathering their bags. I'd been asleep the entire flight. My heart lunged when Vaughn walked past me as if I were a stranger. He didn't even _look_ at me.

"You okay, girl?" my brother asked, looking at me with critical eyes.

I smiled sweetly at him. "Yeah… Just a little jet-laggy."

His eyes softened for the first time since he'd seen me with Vaughn. "Me, too. We get us some ginger ale, eh?"

I wasn't surprised to see Momma, Marie and half the Guild waiting in the airport lobby. Gaston and his step-sister Charlotte embraced Chaucer; Hero ran and leapt into Renegade's arms; Momma took me in one arm and my brother in other. Vaughn disappeared silently into the crowd. Rogue stepped forward with a weary smile, her children waiting by her side patiently. When I saw them, I smiled, and they ran to my arms.

"Where's Papa?" I asked.

Rogue opened her mouth to answer, but Momma put an arm around me and led me outside. "Every time you see Rogue, you askin' 'bout your _father_! Poor sweet t'ing gonna t'ink you don't love her at all!"

I turned to my stepmother and apologized: "I'm sorry, Rogue. Of course I'm glad you made it!"

…

If I'd known I would step off the plane and into business, I would've braced myself. I was unprepared for the immediate questions – towards my family _and_ Chaucer – and the sudden, last minute shifts in loyalty. The vote was due the same night as my arrival. Even though Momma fiercely defended my position that the Guild wasn't ready to know how things ended, I could sense her disappointment. She'd been counting on me and I'd failed her. Some only believed me because Chaucer confirmed my story. For once, I was exceedingly glad for him. Vaughn (who might've _also_ come to my defense) was mysteriously absent from every event. Once back home, I stole away upstairs to quickly shower and change. If I'd been hoping for a moment of privacy, Momma dashed that.

While I was showering, she slipped into the bathroom and whispered through the curtain: "Prideaux come t' your defense. T'ings must be goin' well wit' him."

My stomach sunk. I could only say: "I reckon so. Momma… I know you've been in marriage negotiations."

She sighed: one of her rare signs of guilt. "I don't mean not'ing by it, _chere_."

"I know," I lathered my hair. "You need Papa or Jean-Luc to agree to it, too."

"_Non, non_, _chere_! Gaston don' mean not'ing by it, either! It a game, m' _tite fille_. We pretend t' be friends… Dat way, whoever lose still got a card t' play. 'You promised me your youngin'!' But… if we should lose… You might have t' make good on it. You live wit' dat?"

My heart yearned for the boy with honey eyes. When I tried to push those feelings down, they surged through my eyes and throat until I choked on my tears.

…

"What do you mean?" Gaston boomed, his small-pox scarred checks flushing with rage. "I _must_ know what she saw!"

Chaucer shook his head. "C-c-can't know what s-s-she _saw_."

"Don't get smart with me, boy! What did she _say_?"

Chaucer kept his head lowered in submission, but he would not speak.

"Well," Gaston huffed, "I hope she's giving you _something_ for your loyalty! And by way, she'll be your wife one day, so things are over between you and Brett."

At this, Chaucer stood straight.

Gaston couldn't smother a grin. "You'll be married to the matriarch, son. Congratulations."

"W-w-wha – when?"

"Not tomorrow, so stop sweating."

"W-w-wha – why d-d-do I have t-t-t-"

"Jesus Christ, boy! Take a breath!"

Chaucer forced his nerves to calm. "_This_ is how you tell me?"

For once, Gaston was speechless.

"She's a child!" Chaucer roared on. "Probably ten years away from marriage! _Twenty_ with her mother involved in _anything_! And you want me t' stop seeing Brett for _that_!"

"Y-yes!" Gaston finally found his voice. "We've all made sacrifices for the Guild. One day, our hard work will pay off. And I won't gamble _years_ of planning for the crown on some… _girl_ who isn't even Guild!"

"Father," Chaucer took a deep breath, "I w-w-will do this if y-y-you insist. B-b-but please don't."

…

While Honor was in the shower and Belle was desperately trying to pull some last minute strings, Rogue helped Renegade unpack. She asked Ollie and Becca to play with Hero in her room, and although Ollie really missed having a _boy_ to play with, he was accustomed now to minding his sisters.

"Dat boy really wants a brother," Renegade said to break the awkward silence. "You t'inkin' 'bout givin' him one? Or is Momma gonna have t' break down and find another boy?"

Rogue laughed like she'd never laughed before.

It wasn't _that_ funny.

"Nah, sugah," she answered, "Ah think this mare is done."

"Where Mr. LeBeau, anyway?"

"He's workin' hard to provide for his family," she said, her voice far away.

"You _know_ where he is?" Renegade asked carefully.

"Of course, sug. He's in New Orleans. Now, where do ya hide _these_?" Rogue held up a pornographic magazine that had been hiding in his suit case.

His black face flushed burgundy, and he snatched the paper booklet. For a long minute, he avoided her eyes, and her motherly instincts detected more than embarrassment.

"René-"

"Rogue, I gotta tell you 'bout somet'ing! I messed up big time!" He closed the door and then stood close to her, speaking in hushed tones. "Sister's in love wit' Vaughn. I don't t'ink she know it yet, but I seen dem kissin'-"

"Whoa, whoa!" Rogue's pretty face, which had been lined with worry, lit up with suppressed laughter. "Just because she _kissed_ him doesn't mean she _loves_ him!"

"She _s'post_ t' be aimin' for _Chaucer_. Momma asked me t' put a spell on 'On t' make her fall in love wit' 'm, but I mess it up. Vaughn pick up de candle, and now dey in love."

Rogue set her lips against her teeth. "Ya can't _force_ love. Belle can call it whatever she pleases, it's a _lust_ spell. And lust passes in no time. Once he's in Texas and she's back in New York, they'll both move on and remember it as a case of teenage hormones. I ain't mad at ya, sugah, but ya can't say a word about this to Remy. He'll wring Belle's _neck_ if he finds out she's been meddlin' with Honor's heart."

"Well, speakin' of 'm… Sister had a vision 'bout 'm in Egypt. Has he… Not been himself?"

…

With a towel wrapped around my body and another around my hair, I walked into my bedroom. I pulled the towel off my head and began drying my hair, thinking absent-mindedly about what I should wear. I went to my closet and started to un-tuck the towel around my bust when I heard a noise. Startled, I spun around with a switch-blade ready. Vaughn held one hand up defensively; the other was covering his eyes.

"Really, _chere_, you gettin' sloppy!"

I put my weapon away and pulled my towel tighter around me. "You Thieves just don't get it. I don't care _how_ close you get to me because I could kill you with a _paperclip_. And why on earth are you hiding for? It's nothing you haven't seen before!"

He smiled wolfishly. "T'anks for remindin' me… But I come t'day as an honest man, so you get decent."

I quickly pulled on my robe and tied it around the front. "You came as an honest man… So you sneak into my bedroom and wait? Daumier, you got a lot to learn about being _honest_."

"I wanted t' talk t' you 'bout what your brother said."

"This is really bad timing."

"I'm leavin' after de vote."

"No," I crossed my arms. "I mean you _should've_ said something when Renegade told me you'd been talking with your uncle! Doesn't matter _now_ because I _know_ the truth. Your family's after my crown – same as everyone else. So you pretended to…"

His eyes perked up when I stopped talking. "What I pretend t' do? I never lie t' you; give you m' word on dat."

"No… You don't _have_ to, do you? You say just enough to let me deceive myself. It's always _'someday'_ and _'perhaps'_ and _'if only'_. You are _just_ like my father! Words are like raindrops to you. They mean nothing. And _nothing_ you have to say could mean _anything_ to me."

He walked toward my window to make an escape, and for a moment I thought he wouldn't respond. But he stopped at the frame, as if the words only just came to him, and told me: "Renegade's usin' you, too. Only I reckon you don't care 'bout _dat_ 'cause you don't care about _him_."

Then he left me simmering with fury.

…

"What is dis place?" Renegade asked.

Rogue swore him to secrecy before stealing him away to the basement of his house. He'd only just moved here, and hadn't spent much time at all in his New Orleans home. If he had gone into the basement (but why _would_ he?), he would've discovered the house's security system. Television screens monitored every room except the bathrooms, and the yards were under heat-detection sensors. But most unusual of all was a giant box that took up most of the room. The box was solid, made of crude metal, and disturbed by tubes that obviously allowed for fresh air.

"That was meant to be the panic room," Rogue said about the box. "Just like the one in New York, except this one was never finished."

Renegade took a closer look. The walls weren't metal after all, but some sort of… transparent material that only revealed its true form upon intimate inspection. It was like a penny that he could _almost_ see through. His reflection followed him around the object. Thinking he might be able to see through it clearly, he pressed his face to the box. His reflection transformed into a demon: skin black as death with eyes and hair solid white. Renegade gasped and jumped back, but the figure inside stood firm. There was certainly a man inside, and although he was concealed, he'd been watching Renegade like a leopard watches an injured gazelle. Even now, he did not break his lethal gaze, and Renegade wondered how he'd been so unaware.

Rogue kept him from bolting back upstairs. "You asked, sugah… _There's_ Mr. LeBeau."

…

Marie helped Belle zip up the back of her dress. It was a gorgeous gown that swept the floor and clung tightly at her waist and bust. The shade was a deep forest green as inviting as an emerald, although only a fool would stand in a room with Bella Donna and not watch her eyes.

"If you like," said Marie, "I could have Tante Mattie take de little ones out during de vote."

"Why would I do dat?" Belle asked while adjusting her hair. "Dis is dere home."

"Of course. I apologize."

"Don't," Belle sighed. "It a good idea… It will be dangerous wit… All de activity."

"I'll handle everyt'ing, madam. Do not concern yourself."

Footsteps thundered up the stairs and down the hall towards Belle's bedroom. Instinctively, Marie unsheathed her sword. Gown or no gown, an Assassin was _never_ unarmed. Fist falls rained on the matriarch's door, giving Marie half a mind to attack without warning.

Belle cried out: "Who de devil is dat?"

"Gaston Prideaux!" The man answered, "Requesting an audience with the matriarch!"

Marie didn't set down her sword until the man entered and proved himself alone and unarmed.

"Is it true?" He bellowed. "Did you help Frederick Daumier get his son out of prison?"

"Yes, and I t'ank you not t' take dat tone wit' your queen!" Belle shouted.

"Did it not cross your _royal_ mind that he was left there for a _reason_?"

"How _dare_ you!" Marie leapt at him, fists clenched. "We know _damn_ well you only care 'cause of de vote! _Bella Donna_ bought 'm off before _you_ did, and now she's got his hand. We _also_ know damn well dat you bought Martin's hand by promisin' him an Ivy League university for his kid!"

Gaston appeared apoplectic. "Woman!" He roared at Belle, "You have betrayed my trust, and now you insult my intelligence! What is it about Daumier that appeals to your loyalty? If you or I knew, we'd _all_ benefit from it!" Without another mutter, he stormed out. His footsteps thundered all the way until they climaxed with a door slam.

Marie and Belle looked at each other and the younger woman uttered: "D-Daumier?..."

"He means _Franco_," Belle clarified.

"But you've showed 'm no favor! Not since Honor's father…" Marie stopped herself from spilling those forbidden words and changed direction. "Wit' a phone call, you could have 'm released! His brother is a _Council member_, and dat's a horse of a different color! You ain't been writtin' 'm, have you?"

"_Non_! Dere been rumors?"

"No, Belle, but dere will be _now_! What's he goin' on about?"

"If not Franco, then he must mean _Vaughn_."

"Vaughn? How could you _possibly_ show him favor? He's in Beaumont now. You never see 'm, and when he's around he's always spyin' on-"

"_Honor!_"

…

_Marie speaks_  
I knew better than most how lonely the throne could be. But Belle wrapped herself in that wet blanket and carried it always. She would let no one dry her or try to warm her. People on the outside thought Belle a carefully guarded person, who shared her secrets with Honor and me only. But Belle kept her secrets to herself. I liked to think that once Belle had trusted Honor's father, and maybe if he'd stayed, he could guide her through this night. But maybe I was wrong: people are often enough. Since he _hadn't_ stayed, Belle trusted no one, and would take no one's advice. The matriarch had sacrificed everyone dear to her for the Guild… That is the price of the crown. Jean-Luc had told her that once long ago, but she was young and refused to believe him. Now she understood.

Honor was her last card: the one she held closest to her heart.

Before the trip to Egypt, Renegade told me that his mother didn't even _notice_ her younger two children when Honor was near. He was right, of course. When I mentioned sending Hero out of harm's way, I realized Belle hadn't thought of her youngest child _all day_. Clearly, she loved Honor with all her heart and soul, leaving no room for anyone else. And now Belle was promising her golden child to a man she didn't love from a clan she didn't trust.

My poor queen.

.::.

The decision put Belle in physical pain. Her violet eyes darkened and her lips thinned like the afternoon she delivered Hero. But her voice rang out boldly without the slightest trace of weakness or uncertainty.

"I know we address de old news first, but I have _new_ news dat I t'ink may get lost if I wait t' announce it. De rumors are true. Prideaux and I intend t' join our clan t'rough de union of our children. God willing, dey will be wed at a later date. Mr. Tome, you have de floor."

The Unified Guilds' council gathered together in their new meeting room. This one was significantly larger than its predecessor, allowing for a single, long table to seat the entire council with two seats at the head. Bella Donna and her eldest child sat side-by-side at one end, and Misters Tome and Hoard sat at the other. Closest to the queens sat Mercy LeBeau and Marie-Therese, followed by Genard Allouette and Gaston Prideaux. Farthest from the matriarchs sat Frederick Daumier and Adele Besancon. The meeting room allowed for spectators, and this gathering had plenty of extra eyes. Vaughn and Clayton Daumier stood near their Council relative. The wall was lined with Thieves and Assassins hoping for a chance at immortality. Emil Lapin rarely attended these things anymore, but even he was here tonight. Of course, Madame Selene was most prominent among the crowd. I hadn't been feeling well all evening. Once the doors to the room were shut, I felt trapped. My hands shook like I was low or high on sugar, and a cold sweat coated my face. When Momma announced my engagement to Chaucer, I pretended it was Vaughn to keep from crying. Unfortunately, even that fantasy couldn't make me smile. I closed my eyes and accepted my fate, and I didn't even care who saw my resignation.

_Gaston thought he'd won._

"Now we vote," said Mr. Tome, "Madame Selene has offered to protect de Guild as long as we serve her. The clans have discussed de matter, and will speak now. When I call your name, give 'nay' or 'yea'."

Mercy. _Non_.

Marie-Therese. _No_.

Bella Donna. _Non_.

Honor. _No_.

Genard. _No_.

Adele, Martin, Jean-Paul, Jacques… _Yes, yes, yes…_

Pierre. _Non_.

Gaston. _Yea_.

Mr. Hoard. _Yes_.

My heart hammered in my ears. I was so anxious that I almost didn't realize we were tied. The deciding vote should have gone to Momma or me, but it was too late for that. Besides, the council knew how we'd vote. It was fitting that the _council_ should decide.

Daumier. _No_.

"The nay's have it," said Mr. Tome, and the room erupted.

"Fools!" Selene bellowed. "Do you really think you have a choice whether or not you will serve me? You had a chance at immortality, and now it is gone! But I _will_ have the Guild!"

She extended a white hand of death towards me, and I felt the last of my energy slipping away. The room went as silent as a cave in winter. A chill fell over my seat, and through the darkness I could hear Momma calling for me. Her voice was like a burning lantern trying to light my path, but the wick was quickly dying. Then the sun broke through the clouds, filling the world with golden sunshine. I opened my eyes to find myself lying on the floor. Momma had been calling to me, of course, not knowing why I'd passed out. But Vaughn knew, and tried to stop Madame Selene. Now she had him by the throat. Although he was tall and heavy, she'd lifted him easily and his long feet dangled in the air like Ollie's at the kitchen table. His wheat-blonde hair looked grey under her stare. Just when I thought he'd literally aged before my eyes, his hair returned to gold again.

"Now what is _this_?" She hissed. "Oh yes. We could have fun, you and I."

Clayton beat against Selene's thin, white body, but she knocked him away like an annoying insect while still strangling Vaughn. Clayton was built like a bull: tall and square with black hair and a wide, stout nose. He got up and charged Selene over and over, but didn't appear to hurt her in the least. I knew she was every bit as powerful as Candra, so I wasn't surprised that she would deflect him so carelessly… But why didn't she attack him the way she'd attacked Vaughn? Why didn't she just kill Vaughn and then kill Clayton? Suddenly, darkness spread through the house of Assassins. With it came death, and all of hell close behind him. Selene dropped Vaughn and looked around. I crawled through a forest of legs, using partial vision and partial Sight to reach the body of my friend. The Guild was too distracted by this strange Biblical-turned-modern phenomenon to remember the one who'd risked his life for me… _Again_.

"Vaughn! _Vaughn!"_ I grabbed his shirt and shook him by it.

He laughed dryly. "My clan didn't ask _dat_ of me…"

I couldn't bear to remember my last words to him: 'Nothing you have to say could mean anything to me'. It was a cold lie used to defend my heart against him, and now I hated myself for it. I cried and held his head in my arms, against my chest. "I'm sorry, Vaughn."

He nuzzled closely and whispered, "I'm sorry, too, 'On. I'm sorry for all de times I hurt you. If I gotta chose between you and m' clan, I pick you."

I shook my head, weeping all the harder now. I knew what it was like to love someone so much you'd sacrifice your family. The words in my heart slipped out of my mouth as if it were as natural as exhaling: "I love you."

Panic rose in my throat. No, I loved Giana! And against my better judgment, I still loved Tess a little. I had heard of being in love with two people at once… but _three_? No, that was impossible. Oh please, I begged myself, undo this! Vaughn was the _last_ person I needed to love, and now I'd _said_ it! He had all the cards, all the power! He could blackmail me to the point of ruining my engagement to Chaucer… My family's honor would be in shambles! We'd be the laughing stock of New Orleans!

"I love you, too," he said.

Selene had turned her sights on someone else… And this creature thwarted her like a piece of lent. She slammed against a wall near me, and people ran out. They would not stay while the house collapsed on them. Clayton helped me get Vaughn to his feet and told me to find Momma. "She won't leave wit'out you."

So I left him, and Momma pushed me out of the room. We ran into Rogue at the doorway. She'd been fighting against the crowd, restraining her strength so she wouldn't kill anyone.

"What're you doing?" I shouted at her. "Get moving! If those two wanna kill each other, let'm!"

Her face fell. "Ah don't believe you."

I turned and beheld death. He was a monster: part man and part shadow. His skin was black – not like Renegade's, but black like a water-logged corpse. His hair was white, and his eyes were pupil-less. Death was… my father.

"Think about Ollie and Becca," I told my stepmother. The three of us moved with the crowd until we were outside.

"How'd he get out?" Momma asked Rogue.

"Someone must'a-"

"_Renegade!"_ Momma remembered suddenly. We scanned the panicky herds, but my brother was nowhere. "He's still inside!"

Noxious gas was rolling out of the opened doors and windows. People gagged as they staggered out. But this did not slow Rogue down. She took to flight, and charged back inside like Superwoman.

"De basement!" I said and pointed to a tiny window near the ground.

I didn't want to kill Selene; I just wanted to get my brother out of harm's way. So I broke the basement window and carefully lowered myself inside. The air was thick with toxic smoke. A small amount escaped through the window, but it was still strong enough to burn my eyes and throat. I covered my face with my collar and scanned the floor for Renegade. Nowhere. It was unlikely that he'd escaped… More likely that he _was_ this poisonous smoke. But how? This smoke had acid; his smoke-state was strictly black and thick, usually associated with fire that was wood-fueled. Overwhelmed, I stumbled back to the window. I wasn't going to make it… The smoke rushed to me like it was caught in a vacuum. Then Renegade materialized, and he helped me out the window. Once on the lawn, we both collapsed into coughing fits.

Back inside the house, Rogue was trying to save my father from himself. Unfortunately, that meant helping Selene weaken him. She had an idea – only an idea – but it was all the hope she had. Once he was weakened from the combined forces of the super humans, Selene drained him of his powers. On the way to death, Death vanished, but my father remained. Selene was more powerful than ever. Even the grass outside bowed to her might. Rogue had planned on fighting her, but I knew that plan was no good. Selene would take Rogue's life force, and then my father's, and the entire Guild unless we submitted.

I called to my brother. "Could you do your thing? I need a distraction to get Papa and Rogue out."

"_Absolutely not_!" Momma interjected.

But he obliged and I followed him inside.

The gas made Papa choke, and Rogue barked: "What're ya doin'? Get your hides outta here!"

"Don't be ridiculous," I said lightly and flexed my fingers. "I already took out two deities. What's another?"

Actually, when I defeated Candra and Apocalypse, I had the aid of the Momentary Princess. And truth be told, they weren't really _dead_. Gods couldn't die. I'd only transformed their essence into something they hadn't yet learned to control. I had no doubt they'd return one day. But Selene didn't know any of this.

"No, I've tasted your power," the Madame argued. "You're not what you were."

"Aren't I?" I sneered. I felt my head go light, but this wasn't from Selene's efforts; it was the result of my own. Soon, my entire body went light and left the floor. It took a great deal of focus to levitate myself, but it wasn't enough. Selene's sickly-white skin took on a pretty blue glow like tiny veins just below the skin. She screamed and threw me against the wall. When I looked up again, she'd vanished.

Renegade helped me up and chuckled with relief. "What de hell was dat?"

"Neat trick, huh?" I smiled.

"One… helluva… bluff…" Papa coughed. He must've known that I couldn't do Selene any real harm. I was like a fly compared to her, and my only weapon was to fly in her face and convince her that I was a bee. She'd fallen for it, and chose to push me aside rather than engage in combat. Rogue pulled my father to his feet and the four of us limped outside, where Momma was waiting.

"_Mais_, woman," said Papa, "Least we left de house intact dis time!"

.

_To Be Continued…_

.

**Author's Notes: **Crazy Gambit isn't my creation… In the comics, Marvel creates DeathBit (okay, they just call him "Death"…) when Gambit decides to work for Apocalypse, and becomes the Horsemen of Death. Aside from trying to kill Rogue a few times, the character didn't do too much. How Gambit transformed back into himself was never revealed, and although the X-Men had gotten some heavy hints that Death is dying to break free of Gambit's control, they've decided not to face it. (Think it'll be a problem?) I dunno, but to me, the Elixir seemed like a much more sensible transition from Gambit to Death to the Witness. But I'm getting ahead of myself…


	8. Intermission: New Troubles

**Disclaimer: **I do not own.

**Author's Note: **Time for another break. More cradle robbing going on here… . Those kids just can't stop themselves.

**The Ballad of Honor and Tess**

**Intermission - New Troubles**

Eight days after our homecoming party, we had a bon-voyage party. New Orleans would always have a piece of my heart, but I realized now that New York was my home. That's where I had my friends and lived my life; that's where I gave piano recitals and went on dates. And most importantly, that's where my _family_ lived. Papa seemed to have regained his senses, but he had to be closely monitored. Every once in a while, Rogue had to drain off a little of his power, and Tante Mattie taught her a bitter broth to help ease his spirit. He seemed perfectly fine, but I knew he wasn't. The twins sensed it, too. Sometimes they'd walk against the wall when he was in the room, or duck down when he spoke to them. He'd speak softly and kindly to us, but the trust took time to repair. With a broken heart, Rogue fought on. She convinced Papa to move back to Poughkeepsie "for the kids". He wasn't that hard to persuade; I think the move to Valle Soleada had been her idea. Then she and Momma had it out. Momma didn't want Papa and Rogue roaming back and forth like a pair of gypsies, and she didn't want Papa near us if he were still a threat. But in the end, she relented, too. And then Rogue had to tell Ollie and Becca that they were giving up the beach and their pool and their swing-set…

But I had my own troubles.

When Selene turned against the Guild, Renegade thought my father would help. He trusted my father to love us even in his madness. He didn't. My father turned on Renegade, and the only way he could escape was to transform into his smoke state. Somehow, Papa exhaled a poisonous gas that bonded with my brother. Renegade was afraid to return to his human state, knowing the poison would be trapped inside him. But when I needed him, he came to my rescue. We confined Renegade to his bed for a night and day, under revolving supervision. He exhibited no signs of illness, blindness or dizziness: none of the regular signs of poisoning. But then, after a solid twenty-four hours, he screamed for help. I ran down the hall and found him still in bed: the pseudo-patient with his nurse, Marie, on the floor.

"What happened?" I asked, helping her to sit up again. "Did you _hit_ her?"

"No! Of course not! I-!" He stopped suddenly.

"What?"

By then, Momma and Tante Mattie had reached his room, too. Tante Mattie felt Marie's forehead and quickly felt her pulse. Apparently, nothing was unusual. A strange, guilty look passed between Marie and Renegade. It was clear what had happened, but I could hardly believe it. After an expectant pause, Marie confessed.

"I kissed him."

"On the _mouth_?" I asked, slightly disgusted.

"_Oui_." She kept her black, almond-shaped eyes downcast.

"_Mais_," Momma said calmly, "Now we know de poison still in 'm. Lucky it only affect others, _cher_. Might not be permanent; we wait and see."

Tante Mattie practically had to carry me out; I did not want to miss _this_ confrontation! Marie was like a sister to me, and like a daughter to my mother. She'd been with my family since her uncle was killed when she was just eleven. Momma taught Marie everything she knew about the Guild, and trusted Marie more than anyone else on the planet. And now she was running around with my _brother_, who was seven years her junior! Last year, I'd taken up with a boy _four_ years older than me, and my parents were outraged. They had him expelled, threatened to send me back to the nut house, and when he came to pay his respects to our dying friend, Momma made him wait on the porch like a dog. I could only _imagine_ what she'd do now.

"He's my _brother_!" I sassed Tante Mattie. "I've got a _right_ to know what's happening!"

She pushed me down the hall. "Yo' Momma _tell_ you what you gotta _right_ t' know!"

Of course, I only needed to use my physic powers to know what was said.

_Momma crossed her arms and spoke calmly. "How long dis been goin' on?"_

"_Ain't nothin' goin' on, Momma," Renegade answered. "It just happen."_

"_We been confidents f'r a while," added Marie, "I just so glad he be all right dat I kissed him. I'm sorry; I shouldn't've-"_

"_Don't apologize," Momma said. "Dis is wonderful! I couldn't a' picked a better match m'self."_

_They both looked at her sideways._

"_I ain't gonna be around forever," Momma continued. "Ain't no way in hell I'm gonna concede t' __**Chaucer Prideaux**__, and Honor's gonna need a coregent. Who more worthy den my son?"_

_Now their brown eyes grew large and round._

"_Renegade is part-T'ief and part-Assassin, just like Honor. De two a' dem represent a new Guild! My son is completely loyal to de Guild, and he need a wife just as dedicated. Who better den m' Marie?"_

I pulled away from the vision and sat on my bed, numb with shock.

"That _hypocrite_!" I shouted at Tante Mattie.

So now Renegade and Marie were betrothed, and I was sick with jealousy. Why should _he_ get to marry the woman he loved, while I got sold off to the boy with the most troublesome father? Didn't Momma _love_ me? It made me so miserable I couldn't look my own brother in the eye. I should've been worried about his toxin-level, which might've impaired him from ever exchanging bodily fluids again, but I could not find room in my heart for him.

Papa was the one to finally confront me about my sulking. He was always easy to talk to, but now he was also eager to repair whatever damage I'd incurred. He wanted to be the family savior and earn our forgiveness for his recent lapse. I foolishly told him everything, forgetting that he knew nothing. He was so livid with Momma for striking a marriage bargain without his (or Jean-Luc's) knowledge that the two of them actually _left the house_ to fight. I'd seen them step into or out of a room before, when their tempers got the better of them… But I'd never seen them calmly leave the _house_ before exchanging a single heated word. I paced like a nervous kitten the entire time, visions of fist-fights and tears tormenting my thoughts. They returned many hours later, just as calm, and said nothing to me about it. I could've used my powers to hear their conversation, but that tactic had stirred up enough trouble. For once, I decided to listen to them. If they didn't want me to know about something, maybe I really was better off _not_ knowing. I didn't have to wait long for the results. Momma was due to announce my betrothal at our farewell party. Whether or not she did would tell me who'd won the argument. I felt a little guilty lying to Momma, and using Papa as my defender. Every fight they had was over me.

But there was someone else on my mind…

I hadn't seen Vaughn since the vote. He told me he'd planned to leave afterwards, but Clayton being back changed everything. The two of them were as close as brothers, and where one went, the other was sure to follow. So if Clayton was still here (and he was), chances were good that Vaughn was still in town, too. Knowing Vaughn, I got ready for the party early. Then I sat in front of my mirror, pretending to fuss with my hair. Since I'd left the window unlocked, he entered without warning. I wondered how long he'd been watching me through the window, and shivered. Luckily, a cool autumn breeze swept the loose strands of my hair, and took the blame for the sudden tightening of my skin. We hadn't spoken since our unexpected love confessions. I didn't really want to speak to him now. Words meant good-bye. Even if he was leaving, I didn't want to hear it. I wanted him to rip my dress off and make love to me. Then he could leave forever, and we'd have only fond memories of each other. But Vaughn was nothing if not troublesome.

"You left de window unlocked," he said, "Reckon you be expectin' someone."

I smiled to myself. "Yeah, you'd better make it quick. Wouldn't want Chauce to catch you."

I wanted to see him flush with jealousy, but he didn't take the bait. "_Non_, I won't keep you long, _chere_. I just come t' say _au revoir_."

"Please don't. I couldn't… Are you going back to Texas?"

"_Oui_. And you're goin' back t' New York?"

"Yes. But we'll visit New Orleans from time to time. You will come see me, won't you?"

He smiled. "How many times you try t' shake me, eh? We Daumiers like de shingles, always creepin' up when you least suspect."

I smiled back at him. It made me happier than I could say to know he thought of seeing me again. Then I walked to him and we embraced: friends bidding farewell-for-now. He left without kissing me or making love to me, but I obtained a sense of peace about the world I didn't have before.

"Oh," he stopped in the window sill and gave me a naughty little grin. "And since you so kind as t' leave de curtains open for me, I show you mine."

I covered my face too late as he dropped his pants. I saw the top-half of his ass, and blindly threw a hairbrush his way. Luckily, it didn't hit the window; I don't think it hit him, either. I heard him laughing as he leapt away.

.::.

I went down the hall to make amends with my brother, but he refused to hear my apologies. He'd never taken personal offense to my jealousy, so there was nothing to apologize for.

"Belated congratulations," I said. "On your betrothal. And on your inheritance, I suppose. I didn't even know about it."

Momma still hadn't told me that she planned to concede to Renegade; I only knew about it because I'd been snooping. But she was right: the plan was perfect. Jean-Luc himself, the master manipulator, couldn't have devised a better set-up. Renegade had been trained as a Thief and adopted by the Assassins, which put him in the same unique position as me. He was just as qualified as I was, but had the modern-day appeal of being a rook. I was a cousin, which would appeal to the other side of the aisle. We made the perfect team. After Renegade and Marie married, their children would probably continue the legacy established by my parents. After all, _their_ children wouldn't have the same conflicts as mine would (assuming I married Chaucer and had children by him). The thought of LeBeau blood forfeiting the crown made me cold, but blood wasn't everything. I loved Renegade just as much as I loved Ollie, so Renegade's children would love me as a true aunt. I could guide them, teach them, and instill in them my own values. The LeBeau dynasty would live on in creed if not in blood.

"_You_ didn't know?" said Renegade, "Means she pro'ly invented it on de spot!"

We shared a smile and then he got serious again.

"I hear de whole LeBeau clan oppose your marriage t' Prideaux. I t'ink your Papa got dem keyed up. Your cousin t'reaten t' stop tithin', and your _tante_ say she not gonna honor Momma no more. You t'ink she really lead a mutiny?"

"No, I doubt it. This is just how the game is played. But let's not think about that right now. We've got a party, and you've got a beautiful new fiancé to escort."

He relaxed under my confidence and compliments. Yes, it was best to soothe the future father of the Guild; make his life easy - for now. Whenever I needed something from him, then his life would not be so peaceful. It had taken me nearly sixteen years to learn this move, but now that I understood, I found it easy to play.

.::.

Dinner was a relaxed, cheery event. The entire Guild was dressed in gowns and suits, of course, and the finest China was laid out with immaculate detail on silverware placement. But the conversation came easy, with all the usual banter and abundant laughter associated with any merry bunch. My eyes kept drifting to Vaughn's empty seat. Eventually, I felt a pair of eyes on me, and turned to catch Momma's coldest glare. Glancing around, I realized Papa, Rogue and Renegade had all been following my attention, too. _Everyone knew!_ My face burned with shame, but the conversation carried on as if no one noticed. My family turned back to their own interests, but I knew my secret had been placed in their deck to be played at a better time.

Under the table, a hand gently gripped my knee. Tante Mercy winked at me without humor. My stomach knotted around some solid ice, and I gripped her hand back, as if to still her from whatever mischief she was planning. Momma stood to speak, and I saw Tante Mercy's eyes light up. It was like watching a train wreck.

"If I may have but a moment a' your time," Momma said, "I wish t' address some rumors concernin' m' daughter. Many a' you hear dat she gonna marry Prideaux's son, Chaucer, and I'm proud t' say it's true. God willing-"

"_Never!"_ Tante Mercy shouted and leapt to her feet. "She will _never_ marry dat boy! And don't you _dare_ invoke God's blessing on dis ill-conceived match, Bella!"

I expected Momma to shout back, but she spoke very softly. "It ain't a love match, Mercy, but dat don't make it wrong. Any match dat bring peace a good one. Don't let your temper get de better a' you like it did my brother."

I could've fainted. My mother _never_ talked about Oncle Julien in public! And for her to compare Tante Mercy to him was an insult not to be forgiven.

"You _know_ dis wrong!" Tante Mercy argued. "You just lettin' your _ambition_ get in de way! I _won't_ let Prideaux get his hands on Henri's birthright!"

From the corner of my eye, I saw Gaston smile and wanted to punch him.

"I curse dis union wit' misery and remorse!" Tante Mercy continued. "May dese two _never_ know a moment a' happiness t'gether! May de Guild _never_ know peace while dey're bound t'gether!" Then her hand grabbed a knife and quick as lightning, she cut open her hand. "I curse dis union wit' _barrenness_ and _fruitlessness_ and _impotence_!"

Her hand waved in my direction and then at Chaucer, splattering her blood on us. Chaucer flinched and I heard myself gasp as if I'd been slapped. Then our eyes met, and for the first time, I felt like I _truly_ saw him. We were prisoners condemned together. Naturally, the entire Guild was in an uproar. She'd cursed not only Chaucer and me, but the Guild as a whole. The solitary reason she wasn't lynched on the spot was because she'd set the curse; only she could lift it. While angry words thundered all around me, insults were exchanged and weapons were drawn, all I heard was the sound of my own heart beat.

_To Be Continued…_


	9. Lucky Bike

**Disclaimer: **I do not own.

**Author's Notes: **This chapter is almost a stand-only story. In fact, that's how I wrote it. But there's just too much going on in Honor's life for anyone to keep up with. Since you'd need to read the entire Ballad to understand what's going on, I decided to post it here. It's also the turning point in Honor and Tess's relationship. Not only do they cross paths again, but this is the first time 'On's really moved on and (of course) it's the first time Tess tries to get back with her. This is also one of the last good times Honor has with Gambit before the Elixir takes over. It's a short scene, but a sweet one considering where his mind's about to go. There's some sex and violence here.

**The Ballad of Honor and Tess**

**Lucky Bike**

_We weren't in Sekmeht's bed this time; we were in mine. This time, we removed our shirts before lying down together. Vaughn's mouth was hot, his lips sweet, and his fingers were skilled. He knew just where to touch, although he didn't. No, his hands strayed near my sweet spots and then darted away like a nervous doe. I groaned and bucked my hips and heard him chuckle. That was the reaction he'd been searching for._

_Ass-hole._

"_I wanna go down on you," he whispered. "Please? It can be m' birthday present."_

_I nodded and he slipped under my knees. My pants were easily discarded, and I was naked except for my socks. His fingers stroked my lower lips and then parted them. His kissed my mound and then flicked my opening with his tongue. I felt something warm ooze out of me, and he lapped it up. His appetite grew stronger, and soon these little teasing gestures were swallowed by firm, invasive demonstrations. When he slid a finger inside me, my entire body clenched greedily._

_We groaned together, and his entire body moved like a snake beneath my legs. I imagined making love to that body, and felt the promise of an orgasm. I was chanting his name over and over like a desperate prayer. He was speaking, too, although I could never have made out the words… I imagined he was declaring his love. My legs wrapped around his head and my hips bucked against his face while I came. I loved coming. I loved coming for Vaughn, and he loved making me come. Another man might've fought for air or held my knees open, but he gripped onto my backside and rode with me over the edge._

_I looked down at his face between my white thighs and we smiled at each other._

_He crawled on top of me and I reached down for his zipper-_

"_What the hell is going on?" Tess screamed._

_Vaughn and I both jumped and saw her standing in the doorway. Stupidly, I pulled the covers over myself and shouted for her to leave._

_She didn't, but Vaughn was gone._

…

I woke up, shaking with rage and ecstasy. Furious, I didn't wait for her to call me. I dialed her number and tried to steady my breath. I sounded like a dog in the summer.

"'On-" she answered.

"Get out of my head!" I yelled. "_Stay_ out of my head! _You_ dumped _me_, you crazy bitch! You can't just show up like you _own_ me!"

"You never complained before."

"I have a girlfriend now!"

"Really?" She laughed coldly. "That wasn't _her_ I saw you with."

"Piss off, Tessa!"

"'On, wait! I… I just wanted to talk. Can I see you, please? If you'll do this for me, I'll never bother you again. I just… I think it's pretty obvious I'm not over you. I just want to talk, babe. Please?"

…

And just like that, Tess was back in my life. My mind conjured up her vision every moment of every day. It was like I was thirteen again, and she was my reason for living. At night, I wept for wanting her. And during the day, her ghost tormented me. Class was the worst time of all. I'd be bored out of my mind, and would inevitably daydream about her kisses. I withdrew from my family. My parents had learned to accept these mood swings, but the little ones never would. As long as I lived under the same roof as they did, they expected my attention and adoration. I kept this revelation from my friends, and was especially cruel to Giana. I resented her kind heart and sweet smile. Why couldn't she be clever and blunt like Tess? Did she have to smile so often? And why did she bother to kiss my lips and hold my hand? We both knew she'd never put out. I kept this secret close, but I couldn't hide it from my father.

One afternoon while practicing piano, he came into my little music room and asked: "What's on your mind, _catin_?"

"Tess called," I replied without stilling my fingers. "She wants to see me."

He inhaled sharply through closed teeth. "Oh, chere… As a man who been dere, take my word – _don't go dere_!"

"How can you say that? You and Rogue broke up a hundred times! If you hadn't 'gone there', you wouldn't have Ollie and Becca. Or me, probably," I added, remembering she'd once saved my life.

He hesitated, but answered confidently. "If it's meant t' be, you can't stop it. And if it ain't, you can't force it."

He sat silent while I finished playing and then kissed my brow. After the sonata, I felt strangely fulfilled and at peace. I couldn't say if the music or conversation had calmed my soul.

…

Saturday morning, I came bouncing down the stairs. Everyone froze and watched me.

"Good morning, LeBeaus!" I chimed while pouring a glass of orange juice. "Boudreauxs," I added to Renegade and Hero.

Momma must've left early for work. She wasn't here, but she was always the first one up. My adopted brother helped Hero eat her oatmeal; the twins were eating sugary cereal that Momma forbade to her own children; and Papa and Rogue sat at the table drinking coffee.

"_Chere_, you… Feelin' okay?" Papa asked.

I rounded the table, kissing them all on the cheek.

"Never better!" I replied, downing my orange juice. "Hey, Pop, can I use the bike today?"

He lowered his chin and looked at me without blinking. "Beg pardon?"

"_May_ I use the bike today?"

"For what?"

Papa rarely denied his children anything, but he'd had that motorcycle longer than he'd had _me_. That bike was more than a mode of transportation: it was a part of his identity. He didn't even let Rogue drive it, although I'd never heard her ask.

"I wanted to drive out to Salem today. Spend some time with Gi."

"Take de van."

"The _van_? Come on, Papa! You're not going anywhere today. If you need to take the twins anywhere, _you'll_ need the van. And besides, the bike's a _total_ chic magnet!"

Rogue coughed into her coffee. "What was that?"

"Why d'you think he still has it?" I teased her. "Not for convenience!"

"You have a helmet?" She asked, tossing me the keys.

"Sure do!"

…

I was going to Salem Center, but not to see Giana.

When Tess suggested we meet at my favorite coffee shop in Salem Center, I countered with a bistro outside town. It was between school and Manhattan (where she worked) but quite a drive from Poughkeepsie (where I lived).

"What's the matter?" She'd shot back. "Don't want anyone you know to _see_ you with me?"

She wasn't wrong. I dressed poorly on purpose: faded boots, ill-fitting jeans, and a tattered plaid shirt. I braided my hair and thought I looked pretty even when I didn't try, and I wasn't dressing up for _her_.

But she did.

She looked _amazing_.

Her black hair was curled and pulled back like a Victorian aristocrat. She wore a black satin corset that nicely displayed her milky white breasts, and black latex pants that revealed a black thong when she sat down. Even her fingernails were polished and shaped perfectly. She was just the right amount of beauty and overt sexuality.

Then I saw _him_.

Shaw.

When we first split up, Tess decided to get back at me by using Shaw. He was easily old enough to be her father, and she was pretty enough to find someone better. But "better" in my book is not "better" for Tess. She liked his money, his power; she didn't care about how kind or handsome he was… Or wasn't.

I turned around and left without a word.

"'On!" She called after me. When I didn't stop, she ran into the parking lot after me. "Where are you going?"

I snapped my helmet back on and revved the engine loudly. Then I peeled out, leaving black tire tracks in my wake. For a long time, I drove nowhere. I considered calling Gi or going by to see her since I was close, but I was too frustrated. I'd end up picking a fight over nothing just to make myself feel better, and that wasn't right. But I was too restless to go home. So I just drove. Around sunset, I stopped for gas and called home. Speaking with Rogue made me feel much better, and I considered taking Giana to the city for an ice-cream.

'_Honor?'_ Tess's voice sounded in my mind.

Figured. Just when things were going well again, she had to show up.

'_I'm sorry, babe. I didn't want him to come, but… he doesn't trust me. I would still like to talk to you.'_

Most telepaths can't read or project onto a mind so far away. But Tess and I were soul mates. I knew that even when we were apart and angry. She and I would always be in tune with each other, and time and space couldn't change that.

'_Where are you now?'_ I finally responded.

…

Mr. Shaw was at a party that evening in New York City. I parked my bike around the back, just like Tess instructed, and slipped through the back door. I walked through the kitchen and out into the dining room before anyone stopped me.

"Excuse me, miss," a waiter blocked my path with his body. "I don't believe you're supposed to be here."

Looking around, he was obviously correct. I would've blended in more if I'd stripped to my underwear, but I still would've been more covered than most of the women here. A few women wore evening gowns, but most of them tramped around in black, white or red lingerie. The men were all fully dressed, thank heavens! Most of them looked very superior in their dark suits, but the most superior were an elite few dressed like Mr. Shaw in his founding-fathers attire. The room itself was decorated in gold and red velvet. More than a hundred people sat at approximately twenty tables, which were draped in rich, blood-red cloths. Some of them held dinner plates, but mostly I just saw drinks and ash-trays. At the back of this grand room was a grand staircase that went off to the left and right. And above it all was an enormous chandelier with genuine crystals.

Everyone watched me like a roach that had slipped through the door.

I watched them back, scanning the room for Tess. She stood behind Mr. Shaw at a poker table. The game had paused (although not ended) on my account. Behind his sneer, Tess lit up at my arrival. Her previous outfit, which seemed so provocative in Salem Center, was positively _conservative_ compared to this! Now she wore only a lacy black bra and matching thong with a garter belt and thigh-high nylons. In spite of myself, I couldn't lift my eyes above her neck. My heart skipped a beat at the sight of her.

"Go home, girl," Shaw called.

"Not without Tess," I replied. "Come on, babe."

He looked over his shoulder at her. "Do you want to go?"

Tess looked between Shaw and me, but stayed firmly behind him.

"She doesn't want to go," he said. "Now please leave before I have to escort you out."

When I didn't move, he set down his cards and motioned towards an unseen man. A large, round man hustled towards me and promptly received a switchblade to the chest. The wound wasn't fatal, but would keep him down. Everyone leapt to their feet. Some people ran away; others pulled out weapons.

I looked at Tess. "Will you _please_ come with me? Before anyone _else_ gets hurt?"

She and Shaw looked at me like fish on the market counter.

Since my blade was still lodged in the man's thick chest, I kicked out two chair legs to arm myself with. I heard a man laugh, and then they leapt at me. To my right, a man with a knife swung at me. I broke his wrist with one bat, and knocked him across the face with the other. On my left stood another bouncer, and because he was unarmed, I kicked his stomach and he went down. Two more approached me from the front and rear, so I hit the ground and sent a slight charge their way. The explosion was minor, but still hurt those standing near-by. It became clear that I couldn't blow my way out without hurting someone innocent. I would have to rely on my Assassin skills to win this.

I looked up at Tess and an energy blast shot over my shoulder. A new wave of offense surged towards me: five male mutants with no qualms about hurting by-standers. I charged at the one with force-field powers. Predictably, he released an energy wall at me, which I dodged by leaping on a table and flipping over his head. The wall pushed on, throwing two of my pursuers off their feet. I struck wall-man's head with a bat and turned to the remaining two. I was momentarily thrown off by the scorpions snapping and biting at my feet, but I had the advantage of precognition and knew the poisonous little attackers were an illusion. I kicked an arachnid towards the illusionist and – surprisingly – he flinched.

Another energy blast burned my knee, hip and barely missed my shoulder. The injury enflamed my skin and fueled my anger. Gripping my weapons so fiercely that my knuckles throbbed, I broke blast-man's knee, fractured a rib and dislocated his jaw. I probably would've beaten him to death but I only had time to put him down. He should've killed me when he had the chance, but from his aim and variance in power strengths, I could tell he'd had no training with his mutations and likely no combat training, either. Still in a fury, I charged towards a dragon protecting the illusionist. The reptile evaporated at my touch, and the projector fell to his knees, covering his face. I froze mid-strike and looked down at him.

"Go home," I spat.

Shaking, he stumbled away.

Anyone else who wanted to spur had a change of heart. The building quickly emptied. As a herd of elites and escorts fought towards the exits, a small army of big, heavy men in black t-shirts charged in. While they encircled me, I watched Tess, Shaw and their exclusive circle move upstairs.

I sighed and told the bouncers: "You don't have to do this. I didn't come here to hurt anyone."

But of course, they didn't listen. They had me out-numbered and out-sized. In their opinion, they had me out-_matched_. None of them were mutants and none of them were Assassins, either. Still, they believed they had the advantage. They were glad to teach a "little girl" a lesson in "right and wrong". They moved in pairs. Two pairs moved alternately, trying to arrest me from all sides. I broke fingers, fractured skulls, sprained wrists, and punctured eardrums while moving like a fairy on cocaine. These men were more resilient that the others; the longer we fought, the angrier they became.

I hated that they wouldn't surrender with minor injuries. I didn't really want to kill or main bodyguards, but they easily fought on with busted fingers and bleeding mouths. So I wacked the back of their skulls when I could, and their noses when I couldn't. As they began to fall down and _stay_ down, those remaining became more desperate to conquer me. But they never used any weapon other than their hands, and I admired their conviction in the face of defeat. When at last I'd made a hole, I made a break for the stair-case. Sprinting up the hand-rail, I leapt from the second floor to the chandelier over the center of the room. The bouncers were scattered and confused, and froze to watch my next move. I'd trapped myself.

Gripping the gold and crystal décor, I took care to charge all the bars and hooks and little stones. But the charge was strongest at my hands and weaker at the chandelier. Then I back-flipped to the second story just as the golden pole exploded and released the instrument. It turned beautiful neon blue and detonated just before it hit the floor. Nearly perfect timing! It was the most beautiful bomb ever, but damaged flesh just as horrible as any other. I stood there for a moment listening to the pitiful sounds of their groans and cries. Then I turned and added steady, heavy footfalls to their sonata. Tess, Shaw and their circle were in a room packing in soft candle light. They looked pissed that I'd interrupted them. I said nothing – they knew what I was after. Shaw and two other men walked towards me very slowly. I no longer had a weapon, but refused to back down.

"No!" Tess cried. "No one else is getting hurt because of me."

She walked past Shaw; he didn't even _try_ to stop her! All her theatrics about being a prisoner! All her secrecy and manipulations! But _he_ didn't care! This was all _her_ doing! I should've left her there, but my pride wouldn't allow it. I would claim my prize. Oh no – she didn't get to walk out with her head held high. I threw her over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carried her out just like that! Her round, white ass hung beside my face for everyone to see. She struggled indignantly the entire time, and once we were outside, I put her down. She stumbled in her black stilettos, then stepped towards me and shoved my chest.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" She roared. "You can't just _show up_-!"

"You _invited_ me!"

"I _work_ here, Honor! That is my _boss_! And by the way – he could crush you! Body and soul!"

"He doesn't scare me," I said with disgust. "And if he scares you, that's too damn bad! You are no longer my concern! And if you think I'm going to jump in here to rescue you, you're wrong! I thought I wanted to see you, but I really don't! Thank you for asking me to come, though. You've made me realize that breaking up with you was the _best_ thing I ever did!"

Her eyes burned with fury. She charged at me – her hands out-reached. I flinched, expecting her to slap me. Instead, she grabbed my head and kissed me. Don't misunderstand – I was thoroughly pissed. But she'd never looked more tempting. Even shouting in the middle of the street, I wanted to bury my face between her strong, pearly thighs. Now she was throwing herself at me and… well… I'm only human. We stumbled together into the alley besides Shaw's building. He could've been upstairs watching us. She ripped off my plaid shirt, pulled down my pants and panties as one. I grabbed her exposed ass while I pushed up her bra, but she was in no mood to be serviced.

With a teasing smile, she said, "You thought that _boy_ was incredible? Time to wake up, babe."

Her mouth latched onto my clit and made me yearn to stay in her arms forever. A new lover is exciting, but an old one knows how to excite you. I ran my fingers through her black curls and thought fondly of her as I came… But I didn't love her for it. Afterwards, I pressed her against the wall and she wrapped her legs around my waist. Even as I fucked her, I thought her kisses bitter. Her body was soft and familiar but… lackluster. She was like a favorite meal that once made me sick and now turned my stomach ever after. She came; and then we looked at each other like strangers.

I pulled my clothes on and returned to the back of the building where my father's motorcycle waited. I could feel her eyes on me while straddled the bike and snapped my helmet on.

'_Don't look back,'_ I told myself. _'Don't you dare look at her, LeBeau.'_

…

It was late. I should've gone home to kiss the kiddies goodnight and let Papa hold his Harley again. Instead, I drove to the home of an Italian diplomat. I'd been to Giana's house before, but only in passing: on the way to a football game or after a movie. Likewise, I'd met her parents so off-handedly that I don't think they realized I was her girlfriend. I don't even know if they knew she was gay. So knocking on the front door at 11:30 p.m. was out of the question. Instead, I tossed leftover marbles at her bedroom window.

She answered, looking sleepy and pissed.

"Honor? What are you doing? Do you know what _time_ it is?"

"May I come up?"

She hesitated. "Hang on; I'll get the door."

Before she could turn around, I'd leapt up to her second-story window. She looked more irritated than impressed.

"Or you can come up," she rolled her eyes and closed the window behind me.

I'd never seen her bedroom before. The walls were a soft shade of lavender with white molding and curtains. She had two bookcases filled with hardback novels – some in English, some in Italian – all neatly arranged by size. Along the shelves, hanging from the ceiling and taped to the walls were the fairies: toys, pictures, snow globes; small and thin, pale and dark, benevolent and malignant. Her hobby didn't overwhelm the room, but surprised me with its mere existence. Although most of her little ornaments were bright and cheery, some were quite wicked. The fact that she acknowledged and accepted the evil ones made me think I didn't know her as well as I thought.

"Sorry if I woke you," I said, noting her handmade quilt was tossed back from her narrow bed.

She crossed her arms. "I waited for you for two and a half hours! You're not going to apologize for _that_?"

"I _am_ sorry, Gi. I'm _really_ sorry. I…"

"What? No ready-made excuse?"

I didn't like this coldness in her.

"That's okay," she continued. "I know where you were."

My heart sank; what did she know?

"You've been hot and cold the entire time we've been dating. Some days you can't get enough of me and some days you despise me. You're not over that girl – _fine_. I know you can't _make_ yourself fall out of love. But when you said you wanted to be serious about you and me… That really meant something to me! I thought it would be the beginning of something special. I didn't know you'd turn into such a _bitch_ once you stopped getting laid! That's why you're seeing Tess, isn't it?"

At that, I spoke up: "Wait – I'm not seeing her. I saw her. _Once_. It was terrible timing; I should've called you and I'm sorry. She called last week and… my head's been all over the place… Believe it or not, I didn't really want to see her. And I had no idea what would happen or what to say… This is coming out all wrong…"

She sighed and crossed her arms impatiently. As she moved, the old-lady robe she'd thrown on before opening the window fell open, revealing a cute pajama set of matching, yellow shorts and t-shirt. She was a mix of old and new. Even her body was young and fresh, but her eyes were jaded and calculating. I missed the kind-hearted Giana who'd stumbled into class late and smiled bashfully at me. How could I ever wish her kindness away?

"Let me try again," I took a deep breath. "My heart's been hung up on her for a long time. I didn't want to see her again because I thought I'd fall in love with her all over again. But seeing her… She's not the person I feel in love with. Maybe she never was. It's over between us. Really over. I'm sorry I drug you along through it. If you don't wanna see me anymore, I understand."

I turned back to the window.

"I don't want _her_ to always be between _us_," Giana said.

I shook my head but couldn't face her. "She won't be."

"_But_," she pressed, "You'll always want what she represents."

"I don't follow."

"Sex."

I'd been mentally slapped by the word. I could think of nothing better to answer with then: "_What_?"

"I was intimidated by you in the beginning because I knew you weren't a virgin and I thought you'd always be after me," She confessed. "You don't pressure me very often, but… I _like_ when you do."

I was so happy I could fly. "You do?"

She nodded and looked away timidly. "But I think you think I'm the Madonna or something, and you prefer me that way."

"No! I just didn't wanna be an asshole! You said in the beginning that you didn't want to, and I said that was fine. I meant it, baby. We don't have to do anything. I'm not with you for that."

"Well," she shrugged, "I changed my mind…"

I watched her, but I was unable to move. Slowly, painfully so – or maybe it just seemed to be – she untied her robe and pushed it over her shoulders. Then the material dropped to the floor. After a moment's hesitation, she grabbed the elastic band of her shorts and pushed them down over her slender bronze thighs. Next her shirt came up over a flat tummy and firm breasts. She had virgin breasts – small and sweet with soft, dark nipples. She stood in a pair of tiny blue panties, unsure of her next move. Never one to leave a lady waiting, I removed my tattered shirt and kicked off my boots. Still in my jeans and a tank-top, I held her close and stroked her hair.

"The only reason Tess and I ever slept together was because we never got to _choose_. Not the first time, anyway, and that's the one that really matters. Are you sure you wanna do this?"

She gently grabbed my ass – unsure of how hard to squeeze. "I love you, Honor. I don't ever wanna lose you."

For a long time we just stood together by her window. Our hands moved gently over each other's backs, necks and arms. I'd touched her breasts before, but this time I moved slowly. I wouldn't take her for granted. She fumbled with removing my jeans and held my tank top for a long time before finally lifting it. For a moment, I was worried she'd smell Tess all over me. But Gi held me like a princess would hold her favorite gems. With one hand on my waist and the other behind my neck, she memorized my body with her innocent, brown eyes. I discarded my mismatched underwear with no intention of ever putting them on again. Maybe Gi would keep them like a trophy; I didn't really care. I was rejecting the clothing that last knew the love of another woman. Then we lay together on her bed. I was on top, a position I loathed and always seemed to have. But this time was different. She was a virgin and I wanted to show her all the ways she could come. She couldn't _give_ pleasure until she'd experienced it, so I was more than happy to let her lie back and do nothing. Man, I was in for a surprise! Every pleasurable touch I gave her, she returned. She practiced her bites, kisses, strokes, pinches and groans until we'd learned each other's favorite places. She was the most vocal lover I'd ever had, and more than once I was worried someone would hear her. But she was also the most generous, so I hadn't the heart to dampen her enthusiasm.

"Where have you been all my life?" I asked after she pinned me to the mattress.

She grinned. "Please don't think I'm stupid, but… I want to love you, but I don't know how. Tell me what to do."

I found myself shaking with anticipation. "Lay on top of me – on your back."

She looked confused and moved awkwardly. I adjusted her body, moving so her right shoulder was under my chin. Then I put a hand between her legs and another on her breast.

"Spread your legs," I told her. "_Wider_."

"'On, I don't want-"

"_Shut up_. Just let me love you." I rubbed her clit like it was my own. The hard, super-sensitive nub was engulfed by folds of tender skin and I took care not to touch the spot directly. As her arousal grew, so did the nub. She melted like chocolate.

"Honor… _Honor_…" Her voice hitched with desperation. I thought she didn't know what she was beginning for, but once again, she proved me wrong. "Honor… I want you inside me."

"Twist your nipples," I instructed and moved my other hand between her thighs. I probed her gently with my index finger, but she was slick and eager. I slowly increased my fingers and speed to add to her pleasure. Finally, she screamed and her back arched away from me while she came. I felt the insides of her pussy tremble as the climax rippled through her. Then she collapsed, and her body was slack and heavy for a few moments.

"What was _that_?" She asked adorably.

I tried to suppress a growl and showered her slick skin with kisses. She got up and spread my thighs. Her mound pressed against mine and I nearly came right then. I'd never gotten so aroused from pleasing someone else. She moved against me and I cried out to stop her.

"What is it?" She asked calmly. "Am I doing it wrong?"

"No, I just… This is supposed to be about you."

"It's about us," she smiled and started fucking me. Her initial uncertainty had vanished, replaced by a knowing confidence. She was a woman now.

Our cunts were both swollen and wet. She spread her legs so that our clits connected, and I lifted my hips to accommodate her. The sensation was incredible, and it wasn't long before I climaxed. I told her when I was close, and then I held her close and cried her name.

She kissed me tenderly. "I love you, baby."

I smiled at her, both of us in the afterglow of love. "I love you, too, Gi."

We lay together for I don't know how long. We made love again; this time the climaxes were longer in coming, and she seemed distressed that the first time was a fluke. She worried she couldn't give me release again, but we both got there. Afterwards, she retrieved a glass of water for us to share, and then I got dressed _sans_ underwear.

"I really should head home," I said while re-braiding my hair. "I hate to run out, but my parents weren't expecting me to be gone all night."

"No, its okay," she said numbly. She'd thrown her pajamas back on, but they stuck to her chest and pits and crotch - the moist areas of her skin. Her dark brown hair was tangled and knotted; her cheeks flushed; and she faintly carried the smell of carnal desires. If anyone had seen her, they would've seen through her thin sleeping clothes to the truth.

"My family might see you if you stayed the night," she added.

I kissed her mouth and brow. "I'll call you tomorrow."

She smiled, but her eyes were far away. "Drive safe."

…

I wasn't surprised that my parents had set a guard to wait on me, but I was relieved that it was my father. He'd put on a pot of coffee, which had just finished when I walked in. The rest of the house was dark and quiet, so we sat at the table and shared a cup.

"You have a good time?" he asked.

I couldn't hold back a laugh. "Pop… You ever had one of those days?"

"Love bites on your neck and fightin' marks on your back. _Oui_, I had a few a' those days."


	10. You Treat Me Best

**Notes: **((Text)) Denotes words in a foreign language. I chose this method because that's how it's presented in the comics. However, the French stays in French for the same reason.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own.

**The Ballad of Honor and Tess**

**You Treat Me Best**

_Paris was the most beautiful city I'd ever visited. The City of Love. I'd like to think I can leave ghosts buried, but at the strangest times, my mind wanders across Tess. In the beginning, I missed her like my own blood, and the time without her felt like a dream. But I'm better now. Stronger. It's only at odd times now – and it always takes me by surprise – when I miss her. Paris was one such time. Everything was less without her there. Every time I saw or smelt or felt something truly moving, I thought of her. It was only fitting, then, that I should bring her to Paris. She and I were in the hotel suite that Jean-Luc had rented for the week of our vacation. No expense was spared: caviar was brought on golden plates, the bath water was scented with rose petals, and the bed was big and soft as a cloud. But the view was the true luxury: a deity's view of the Rhine._

_She stood on the balcony overlooking the river with her back to me. A part of me wanted to hold her, but that wasn't why we were here. We hadn't spoken since we fucked in the alley outside Shaw's penthouse, and things needed resolved. I had someone else now. Giana was a good girl with a kind soul and I wanted to make something that could last with her. As much as I cared about Tess, I knew things wouldn't work out with her. I didn't feel the same way about her, which surely meant my love for her was dying. There was a time I would've marched into Hell for her, but now I wanted to leave her there. Now I understood what Momma said when she spoke about my father – "we just hurt each other too much". Tess looked over her white shoulder at me, and I could see she wasn't wearing her usual make-up. The scars along her cheeks were deep and looked like tear tracks, and she spoke in a resigned tone._

"_You treat me best when you're treating me worst."_

.::.

Dr. McCoy once told me there's no greater sting than a love rejected. He's right. Telling Tess I didn't want her in my life hurt like cutting out my own heart. But I was greatly loved. I had only to look around me for mounds of this treasure that she'd dealt out in morsels. My new girlfriend would never leave or betray me. My friends would defend me from any threat. I had three little siblings who thought the sun rose at my command, and an adopted brother who could not have loved me more. I had not one or two - but _three_ parents - who would've moved the stars for me. Dinner was the only time we all eight were together. It was a noisy, riotous affair, but I delighted in every moment. I felt like an old woman reflecting on her life, remembering these meals with aching fondness. After a few weeks, my new friends started joining us on Sunday nights. Poor Saben never really fit in with us: I don't think he fit in _anywhere_, but clearly he was making an effort. Giana was a smash with my folks. I was worried about it, too. She's so sweet and quiet, but my family's so loud and straight-forward. I thought they'd run her out, but everyone put their best foot forward. Just when I thought myself wise in worldly things; I learned something that should've been obvious long ago… My parents didn't _really_ like feeding my friends. They welcomed everyone out of Southern hospitality, and kept my friends around for political reasons: one, my parents could never keep enough allies; secondly, they wanted to know what sort of people I attracted and was attracted to. But no matter what company I kept, it was always drawn to my family. I learned that no one – not even surly teenagers – can resist a table full of food and love. It's simply impossible.

Sometime after Thanksgiving, Papa decided to show his butt, and thankfully, my friends weren't present.

"I dropped by Xavier's t' visit some of de old students, and happened t' run int' Sean."

My panic rose and quickly fled. "So? My grades are fine."

"You didn't tell me Julian Keller was teachin' now," he said.

"I told you my English teacher's name was Mr. Keller. If you want a background check on all of them, I'm sure Mr. Cassidy will be happy to oblige. Better yet, ask _Momma_. She'll have it delivered sooner."

Rogue looked away from Becca, who she was helping to cool potatoes. Poor Rogue worried so much now, and mostly about Papa. But he wasn't an infant, and I wouldn't handle him with kiddie gloves. Much to her relief, he laughed at me.

"Julian must'a fallen on hard times. Wit' a family like his, he ain't gotta teach. And I _know_ de boy don't do it for love a' de job."

"Maybe he's there to prey on innocent young girls," I said easily. "Karma's a _bitch_, ain't it?"

"Watch your mouth," Momma snapped.

"Someone's 'ere," Renegade noticed.

We all looked out the window at the black Sedan in our driveway. A man approached the front door easily enough. He was dark and tall with dark hair, a medium-build and carried flowers. Since it was so dark outside, I couldn't get a better description of him, but Momma knew who he was right away.

"'Cuse me," she said curtly, wiping her mouth and leaving the table.

She stepped outside, meeting him on the front porch. Even without the benefit of psychic powers, I could hear their conversation.

"What de hell are you doin'?" said Momma.

"You won't return my calls. I don't know what happened; I thought things were going great. I thought I'd take a chance and… show up."

"Dis is m' _family_, Pransu! Dis is m' _life_. M' _real_ life! You can't just _show up_. You know m' _kids_ are here?"

"So they'll see me. Is that so bad? You don't have to introduce me; I didn't come here for that. I just want to know what I did."

At the dinner table, we all squirmed uncomfortably.

"I told you when we met dat my family is demandin'," Momma replied. "You ain't on m' list of priorities right now, and after _dis_, I don't expect you ever gonna be."

He threw the flowers against the house and raised his voice for the first time. "He isn't _every_ man, Belle! Believe it or not, _some_ of us wanna stick around! But if you're happier being alone, you can have it!"

My chair noisily scraped the floor as I got up from the table. I ran towards the porch, but Momma intercepted me at the door.

"_Chere_-"

"What're you doing, Momma? Go after him! Apologize!"

"No, let's finish-"

"You don't have to do this! It doesn't have to be this way!" I argued.

But it was no use. Momma's eyes were dead: she'd accepted this surrender. Behind her, Pransu got back in his car and left.

"It happens," she shrugged. "Let's finish dinner."

.::.

The next morning at school, we were back to our normal panic mode. Renegade, Gi, Uri and I were quickly copying each other's answers to complete our homework before the starting bell rang. We were at our normal table, and I think by now the other students had learned to give us wide scope in the early hours. In the cafeteria, the entire student body waited for the starting bell, and just like a prison yard, people stood in groups. Typically, the alpha member sat on the table, near the end, and guarded their pack with stony silence, wary glances and bad posture. I cared nothing for their politics, and thought nothing about them could distract me. But when a peaceful commotion stirred in the hallway outside, I found myself tempted. I looked towards the entrance and saw an enormous blue feline/gorilla figure slowly making his way through the crowd. _Dr. McCoy!_ Unable to control myself, I joined the crowd around him. Fighting my way through, I was close enough for him to finally see me. I threw my arms around his torso, which was so wide my hands couldn't reach each other. He exhaled softly on my hair, and gently patted my back.

"Ah, Miss LeBeau!"

"What happened?" I asked. "Did San Francisco not agree with you?"

"California is one of the loveliest places I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. But, in the words of C. Everette Koop, 'Life affords no greater responsibility - no greater privilege - than the raising of the next generation'."

We all beamed at him.

"Will you have dinner with us?" I asked quietly. "You and Mrs. McCoy? Papa and Rogue will be so glad to see you again."

"I shall make an appointment to visit Manor LeBeau," he agreed. "Not to worry, my dear. I think I shall have plenty of time to join you for a meal. I do not plan on returning to San Francisco."

I took this nugget of solace and let him move on, slow moving though it was. So he'd left the Summers tyranny, too. I couldn't smother my cheer; Mr. Summers would suffer greatly without Dr. McCoy, and that brought a smile to my heart. But I had to wonder how much of Dr. McCoy's decision was his own, and how much influence _Mrs_. McCoy had on that decision. Dr. Reyes had never been a fan of the X-Men, but more or less served as a critic. However, _she_ was nowhere in sight today. Later that day, I managed to corner Dr. McCoy again in his lab.

"Shouldn't you be in class?" He inquired.

I shrugged. "It's just English. Papa won't care if I skip; he thinks Mr. Keller and I have a crush on each other."

At that, Dr. McCoy removed his glasses and looked at me seriously. "Your father _will_ 'care'. And why should he believe you and Mr. Keller share a mutual attraction?"

"Guilty conscious? Anyway, you know you'll always be the one who got away. Are you coming back to teach?"

"That would certainly please Sean... But I haven't yet decided." He paused. "Miss LeBeau, I have missed your company, and I don't wish to seem unkind but-"

"No, I didn't come to make small-talk… I wanted to know make an appointment."

"Are you having difficulties with your powers again?"

"No…" I couldn't lift my eyes from my boots while I confessed. "My parents and I just got in from New Orleans. While we were there… Well, a bunch of stuff hit the fan, and my _tante_ put a blood curse on me. She cursed my womb. Could you tell me if I'm really infertile?"

He looked at me slack jawed for a long time before responding. "She _cursed_ your _womb_?"

"She doesn't want me to marry the man my mother picked out," I explained, although I don't think things were any clearer for him. "Now I'm two weeks late for my period."

He blinked and answered: "I'll be glad to examine you tomorrow evening, after class. Is that agreeable?"

"Yeah," I glanced up at him. "Thanks, Dr. McCoy. I'll tell Momma you're coming for dinner."

.::.

We didn't normally have guests for Tuesday night dinners, but my parents were so excited about Dr. McCoy's return to New York that they didn't mind. Turns out, Rogue had already _insisted_ he visit. I even invited Giana – she'd never met him – which was special. I think my parents knew Gi and I were sleeping together. They'd met her parents and were so impressed by her pedigree that they probably would've let us get married. They certainly allowed us to sleep together. I'd spent a few nights at her house, and she'd stayed some nights in my bed. This was never discussed (we weren't just Catholic on Sundays), but wasn't secret, either. At least, it wasn't a secret in _my_ house. I still didn't know if Giana's parents knew we were more than friends. She was amazing, but I knew there were things I could never have with her… A normal life, a wedding, children… So did I _owe_ her an explanation about my possible infertility? If there was anyone I wanted to have a family with – it was her. She was so kind and smart and beautiful. She'd be the most awesome mother. I wanted our kids to have her skin color and my hair color: caramel skin and red-gold hair. How pretty would that be? But it would never happen. Obviously, we could never make a baby between the two of us, anyway. There was no reason to share this with her: it didn't affect her. As for sharing for my own sake… Well, that would involve telling her about the Guild and my betrothal to Chaucer. And eventually, I'd probably slip up and tell her about Vaughn. Any _one_ of those things would be grounds for dumping me. She wouldn't dump me, though. A blind man could see how much she loved me.

"'On?" She called to me. Her voice was like milk and honey. "Babe, where's your head? I said, 'in which process do cells build proteins?'"

I came back to reality. We were stretched out on my bed, trying to study… I covered by saying: "I was just thinking how pretty you are…."

She smiled sweetly. "That's cute, but you'll never pass the test with sweet nothings."

"And how much I'd like to have a baby with you."

She closed the book and stretched out on my bed so that we both laid side-by-side. I was on my back and she laid on her stomach.

"You've been really distracted lately," she said. "Did something happen in New Orleans?"

"I'm late. _Really_ late."

Her face distorted in horror. "Are you trying to tell me you're _pregnant_?"

"Not unless you've been hiding a penis down there!" I smiled at her.

The fear eased out of her eyed. "Have you been to the doctor?"

"I spoke with Dr. McCoy. I have an appointment tomorrow."

She nodded and we fell into silence. I didn't have to tell her anything more, but I wanted to. We laced our fingers and I confessed: "I'm scared, Gi. I wanna have kids, and I wanna have kids with _you_. I've never really put much thought into it before… But now that I can't have it, I want it more than anything else."

She stroked my hair, looking so peaceful and patient. "When you put your mind to something, you get it."

Renegade fetched us to help set the table. I could hear Momma and Papa in the kitchen, playing or fighting about something – with them, it's hard to tell. Rogue was grilling outside, and through the window I could see the McCoys and the little ones with her. Becca was showing Dr. Reyes her latest invention: a music box of Henri's sonata made of a broken clock. Ollie was encouraging her… Poor Becca can be so painfully shy sometimes.

"You met Beast yet?" René asked my girlfriend.

"I've met him," she shrugged. "But I haven't really talked with him yet."

In the kitchen, my parents were both raising their voices.

"He seems like a really nice guy," Giana pretended not to hear them. "Everyone's really excited that he's back."

"I hope he comes back t' teach. Dese first year teachers-"

My parents were now too loud for us to hear each other. I cleared my throat and then set down the napkins I'd been placing. They were still arguing when I breached the threshold between the kitchen and dining room.

"You mind?" I raised my voice at them. "We have guests!"

They both looked at me blankly and then Papa yelled: "Who de hell are you?"

He might as well have slapped me.

"I-I'm your daughter!"

"_Non, _you ain't! My daughter's t'ree years old!"

I tried not to cry.

Dr. McCoy and Rogue rushed inside. Poor Rogue was trying to cover for him, although the truth was obvious. I thought her pathetic for her attempts, but truthfully, I was just as pathetic. Momma and I lied to everyone about Papa's health since his brush with death just a few months ago. We said he was doing great: moving and thinking like himself. That's what we _wanted_ to believe. Actually, he'd been having strange mood swings since the incident. Everything sort of climaxed when I went to Egypt without his permission. By the time I returned, he was some horrible creature from my worst visions. But Selene sucked his powers, and that somehow fixed him. Now we acted like it had never happened and would never happen again.

"How long has he been like this?" Dr. McCoy asked. No one answered him. "Gambit, do you recognize _anyone_ in the room?"

.::.

I had so many thoughts competing for my attention that I'd completely forgotten about skipping English class the day prior. But Mr. Keller hadn't forgotten.

"Miss LeBeau, nice of you to join us today!" He said in front of the entire class. New teachers like to put you on the spot – makes them feel better about themselves.

"Just thought I'd stop by and see if anything's changed," I shrugged and sat with Giana and Uri near the back.

"I'll speak with you after class about your detention."

"Hell, we've gotten _this_ far into the conversation. Why don't you just pick a day?"

"Because I really don't think one session will repair the damage you've caused," he said, beginning to flush now.

"You wanna see me alone multiple times? Christ, it's no _wonder_ people think you've got the hots for me!"

The class rippled with silent, forbidden laughter, and Keller's face burned.

"Outside, Miss LeBeau!"

He stormed to the door and held it open, waiting on me. He meant to shame me with his unblinking stare, but I let him wait with a smile on my face.

"_Now_!"

I smiled so wide that my teeth flashed, and I didn't bother to cover my mouth. I slowly got up from my desk, sauntered down the aisle and out into the hallway. Behind me, my classmates didn't bother to shield their snickers. No one had done anything funny: it was just a sign of disrespect. In _this_ class room, the students had the power. He practically slammed the door shut.

"First of all, that language is _unacceptable_ in my classroom!"

"_Your_ classroom?"

"Nor will I permit you to stir up rumors that could land me in _prison!_ Maybe this is a game to you, Honor, but _I'm_ not laughing."

"_Honor?_ Okay, _Julian_, I'll use whatever _goddamn_ language I feel like! You wanna write me up? Here's a _fucking_ pen!"

"That's it-!"

"And for the _mother fuckin'_ record, I didn't start those _shitty_ rumors! You did! 'Cause you pull _shit_ like _this_!"

Somehow, we ended up in Mr. Cassidy's office. Julian's face was red as a reindeer's nose, and he had a vein in his temple throbbing. He was trying not to shout as he demanded the highest punishment for my mutiny. Mr. Cassidy firmly supported Mr. Keller, threatening me with suspension until my parents showed up. No one threatened me with _anything_ after that! They said Mr. Keller had provoked me; I'd never been a problem student before (yeah right!); and that Mr. Keller should learn to keep serenity in the classroom. Of course, it was a different story behind closed doors.

"I can't believe m' daughter used dat _filthy_ language! Honor Julien, I am so _ashamed_ of you!"

"_I hate t' say it, Julian, but they're right. Ye can't let the children egg you on like that. Once they find your sore point, they'll ne'er let up."_

"I ain't comin' up t' dis school again on account of your behavior! Next time, you can just start diggin' your grave!"

"_Ye need to treat Honor LeBeau the same as all your other students. No worse and no better."_

"Dis ain't some lover's spat, is it, _petite_?"

.::.

The same day, I had to suffer through an inquisition by Dr. Reyes. She examined my pelvis, uterus and ovaries. I peed and bled into assigned devices. She asked to run more tests and then requested a consultation. I don't why doctors always draw out the inevitable. I knew the result.

I was infertile.

"It may have happened at any time," Dr. Reyes said rather coolly. "This could be a result of your rape or an intentional handicap placed by Sinister during your abduction. It could even be a naturally occurring malfunction, but I know with _certainty_ it isn't because of some _curse_. Most likely, the only reason you've missed your last period is because of stress. We could perform some more tests to determine the exact cause."

"No," I said quietly.

"This is the first step towards curing this disorder, if it can be healed. We _must_ determine the cause."

"I said _no_!"

.::.

I didn't really know how to feel, but I didn't want people to know… _especially_ my parents. They always wanted a herd of children – between the two of them, they had five (not including my dead brother). And they expected to have twice as many grandchildren. I knew it was my body, _my_ decision, and this was out of my hands, but I still felt like a failure. I just wanted to be alone. Unfortunately, it was Wednesday night, and that meant date night with my father. Another mother would've been patient and sympathetic… But not Momma. She snapped at me for my sour behavior, told me it was God's will that I should have children - the doctors didn't know what they were talking about – and I would not cancel this time with my father. He was in a sour mood, too. At least he remembered who I was, but two miserable LeBeaus do not a good time make. We suffered through the event for Momma's sake, and came back early, feeling more like strangers than ever.

.::.

"_You __**must**__ do it, m' tite fille. Remember what your momma said de night Gris-Gris died? 'We don' always kill outta hate'. I'm an old man. I gotta right t' die. I ain't scared, petite. I got Henri and Matilda waitin' on me. Dey been waitin' a long time. Don' cry, chere. Come now… Would it be easier if you hated me?"_

_Suddenly, without warning, I thrust the blade into Jean-Luc's neck. I knew I moved quick and struck his jugular, so he would not suffer. His flesh gave away so easily… The blood poured out so quickly… His face was deathly white before he even fell to the ground. I pulled his head into my arms – the golden blade still in his neck – and sobbed so hard I almost couldn't see. The life faded from his brown eyes like a candle flame on a waning wick. He died with a little smile and a bloody handprint on my cheek._

"_NNNOOOOOOO!"_ I shot up in bed.

Beside me, Giana kicked and swung blindly. Once awake, she wrapped her arms around me. I could only gather my senses before I sprinted for the bathroom down the hall. At the toilet, I emptied out the fantastic dinner Mrs. Volpochino provided. I hoped she wouldn't hear me… Gi washed my face with a cool rag and helped me back to bed.

"Where does your mind go?" She asked, tucking the blankets around my body like a taco.

Should I tell her?

I'd had visions of killing my grandfather before in Egypt. Vaughn said we had time to alter that outcome; that I always had a choice, and no one _made_ me kill anyone. But then he left me. Renegade knew about it, too, but he believed visions were better left ignored. He knew Rogue's foster mothers had ruined their lives chasing precognitive visions, and didn't want the same for me. But why was I constantly tormented by these visions, if not destined to alter them?

"To very dark places," I told Giana, and forced my body to relax. "I had a vision… A terrible one…"

"I thought that's why you were on that medication," she spoke softly. "I thought it was under control."

I laughed bitterly. "This _is_ me in control. Please don't think I'm crazy."

"Well," she smiled, "you are with _me_."

.::.

Saturday afternoon, my friends and I headed into the little town of Salem Center. We planned to do a little studying at a coffee shop, and since Momma and Rogue had Christmas shopping to do, we all rode together. Papa stayed in bed; we hoped he wasn't contracting the flu. I was feeling especially generous that day, and offered to take the little ones with me. They really weren't that difficult – just gave them a coloring book, and they were fine. Besides, Renegade and Giana were always eager to help, and the kids had known Uri all their lives: he was practically kin to them. But Saben was upset, as I knew he would be.

"Why are there children here? No one said anything about _them_ coming."

"Blow it up your ass," my brother snapped.

Saben didn't leave. (He couldn't; his parents weren't picking him up until three.) Instead, he pulled out his bottle of Purell and began cleaning Hero and Becca and Ollie's hands. This was the closest he'd ever come to compromising, and I was shocked. He was sick; I knew he couldn't help it. In order to feel safe, Saben needed to be in complete control. He didn't compromise, and that's just the way he was. But here he was – _changing_ – and for someone he didn't even like!

_*Chica… Pochica?*_

I jumped and gasped. There was a voice in my head!

*_Sorry, 'On, it's just me. Nate.*_

_*Why are you in my head? We've got these things called __**telephones**__ now-*_

_*No time. Ethan just left, and he's lost his damn mind. I don't know where he's headed, but just be on your guard, okay?*_

_*Are you hurt?*_ I was worried.

_*Sorry, no time. I'll call you tonight, just keep an eye out.*_

"_I said!_ 'Honor, did you know about this?'" Uri shouted at me.

My friends gathered around a tabloid magazine he'd picked up from the counter. Leaning over the table, I saw the cover: '_Engaged! _Johnny and Soledad finally plan to tie the knot! _Inside_ – all the secrets to their $3 mill wedding!' There was an old picture of my godfather and his co-worker from the Grammys last year, and a close-up picture of a diamond ring that may or may not have been Solie's. The tabloids make up news like they're selling fiction, but this time I knew they were right.

I couldn't close my mouth.

How the hell did they find out before _me_?

"_Lo siento_, ladies," Johnny told us that night. Momma had him on speaker phone with Hero and me leaning over the cradle. "I don't know _who_ let that cat out of the bag. I hadn't even told all my brothers yet!"

"So when de day?" asked Momma.

"You'll get an invitation, just like everyone else, Belle. And Honorita? Get her drink ready because we're going to Puerto Rico!"

In light of Johnny's good news, I decided _not_ to tell my parents about Nate's warning. My school and house were two of the safest places I could be: we were all well-protected. Nate never called that night like he said he would, and I was glad to forget the matter.

Besides, I had some very immediate problems to deal with.

Papa was falling apart. Whenever he could get away with it, he'd sleep all day. Like the rest of us, his life could hardly be called "normal", but he'd always retained _something_ of a schedule. He slept at night, moved during the day, was home for birthdays and holidays, and gone two to four weeks at a time for "work". No one ever talked about the details of his "job" – just like no one ever talked about my sex life. But he'd given all that up. Strange people called the house looking for my father. He stopped eating dinner with us and cancelled all his dates with Rogue and me. Unless I went into his room (the door wasn't locked), I never saw or heard from him. I wrote him a long note, saying I loved and missed him, and left it by his bed. He responded with the Ace of Hearts card. Sometimes he would watch me sleep at night. This wasn't a worried-parental watch with the door slightly ajar and breath bated; it was more of a stalker watch with him standing in a wide-open door frame for hours. Literally _hours_. I never acknowledged him, and I don't know why but this "watch" frightened me. I think he'd watch the twins sometimes, too, because they started crawling into bed with me more often.

Things were still a little strained at Christmas. The improper jokes Papa usually provided were noticeably absent, but he came downstairs Christmas morning, excited to see us all. Momma and Rogue made a fantastic breakfast, and thankfully it was mostly hand foods – rolls, baguettes and such – because everything was eaten around the tree. The little ones couldn't be held back from the presents. Once they saw 'O' or 'B' or 'H', they immediately tore it open. All the parents had a child in their lap, reminding them to thank the giver and moving the box after it was revealed. Whenever the kiddies got a _really_ great present, they'd pop up in the air and run around in their footie pajamas, showing everyone their prize.

That was the best part.

.::.

The old year passed and the new one began in turmoil. There were problems again between mutants and humans, and little wonder: these problems faithfully followed the X-Men. Since losing control of Xavier Academy, Mr. Summers re-located his X-Men to San Francisco. The city had recently extended itself as a haven to mutants. I hadn't really been keeping track of events there, but even I knew things were bad if Dr. McCoy decided to leave. He'd been with the X-Men since the very beginning. But his presence in New York was much needed. He provided the school with a sense of stability and control, something the first year teachers had been unable to do. Even the most miserable of students enjoyed Dr. McCoy's classes. On a more personal level, he convinced Papa to begin antidepressants. Part of the negotiations for that victory included my compliance to undergo fertility testing. I won't lie, I resented him for it. I felt like he was one of the tots, and I had to eat the disgusting baby food in order to get them to mimic me. Shouldn't **he** be setting the example? And not the other way around? But I wasn't the only one suffering. Rogue and Momma had to remind him every day to take his pills, and then they had to check his mouth to ensure he'd actually _swallowed_ them. Rogue kept a little journal of his mood swings, and wanted to discuss it with Momma or Papa or me. The extra work was making us all impatient. I think his treatment was _worse_ than the illness.

In January, there was an attack on San Francisco. The papers said it was the Friends of Humanity – the same terrorist group who'd attacked my school during Nate's graduation, and killed dozens of people. The ring leader, William Stryker, had gone underground, although everyone said the government _let_ him escape because he only killed mutants. Stryker made mutants look bad, just like he made _humans_ look bad. He claimed the attack on the school was retaliation for Summers' X-Force, which secretly killed untold numbers of people. Naturally, Summers "retaliated" against Stryker, who was now striking back. It was war. This war wasn't between nations but between races, and fought on domestic and foreign soil. No one was held accountable for their actions, and everyone was expendable. The public was sick of it. Some blamed Stryker; some blamed Summers; and some (like myself) blamed both. Tension was building, and it was only a matter of time before everyone was punished for their hatred.

But these problems were as distant to me as San Francisco. While Scott Summers was burying friends and notifying their families, Momma and I were picking out dresses for Johnny's wedding. While he was arguing with Congress about his right to "defend himself", I was fighting with Papa about playing my piano too loud. He lost sleep over battle strategies; I was up late studying. He worried about keeping his wife and young child in the city, but the biggest concern in my home that winter was who'd catch the flu next. When I spoke with Nate, his father was often brought up. He'd tell me how his father suffered and inflicted suffering, his own voice weary from late hours at medical school. I tried to lift his spirit with sound logic: how could Summers' reign affect our lives in New York and Canada? He was only one man.

.::.

"Don't say a word," Giana whispered in the dark.

She told me her parents were leaving the country for a few days, leaving Gi and two of her brothers alone at the house. I knew only good could come from this information, and planned to surprise her in the middle of the night. But when I crept through her bedroom window, she wasn't there. I quietly moved down the hall towards the living room when she got the drop on me. Of course, I knew she was waiting in the bathroom, but pretending to be surprised was part of the game.

She slipped out behind me, put her hand over my mouth and whispered: "Don't say a word…"

Then she led me back to her bedroom. Once inside, she closed the door and tied a blindfold around my eyes. Her fingers and grip were so light and fleeting, as if she were afraid of hurting or scarring me. But my nipples hardened beneath my sleeping shirt at the thought of her ripping out my hair. With gentle, fleeting touches, she opened my long pea coat and pulled it off. I felt her struggle with my belt, and then tug at my brown leather pants. Without these garments, I was left with only a grey tank top, my mother's rosary around my waist, and the blindfold. I hadn't even bothered to put on underwear. Gi moaned and I could smell her arousal. She grabbed my arm and led me to her bed, where she forced me to kneel on the floor. A pair of flimsy handcuffs tied me to the bed post and my heart pounded against my breast. My head swirled with anticipation and I thanked whichever sinful saints answer lustful desires.

"Is this okay?" Giana asked, her voice shaky. Her soft, cool hand stroked my hair, and I nodded vigorously. "If you want me to stop-"

"I'll say 'Hunter'. It's a safety word."

For a long time, she didn't say or do anything, and I worried she'd changed her mind. Finally, she began to move around the room again. When she returned to me, she pulled my shirt over my head and down my arms. She left it near my hands, which were still cuffed to the foot post. She grabbed my left breast and something cool and metallic pinched my nipple. She moved to my other breast and applied a clamp to that nipple as well. The weight was just enough to tug and hold without giving any release. Without relief, the pleasure was acute and constant. It _demanded_ satisfaction. Hot, sticky pre-cum swelled in my cunt and ran down my thighs.

"Oh God, Gi," I groaned, squirming like a worm on a hot sidewalk. I placed my heel between my legs and came down on it, rubbing my clit against the rough pad. I felt a deep, burning yearning in my lower belly. I needed her – _all_ of her.

"Get up!" She snapped. She watched me grinding for a few seconds, and when she realized I wouldn't obey, she shoved her index finger entirely inside my pussy.

My vaginal walls clenched down on her, greedy for more.

With her finger still inside, she pulled me up from the floor and said, "It's not that bad, is it?"

I could only groan, and I felt her finger becoming coated with my juices. When she spoke again, her voice was kind and soft and patient as an angel.

"I know you've had other lovers, Honori. I'm not jealous… Not anymore. _I've_ got you now. But sometimes I feel like they're in the room with us; like we're not really alone, even when we're completely intimate."

Her hands roamed up and down my torso, rolling the beads of my rosary across my skin. The smell of my sex was embarrassingly obvious. Out of kindness, she moved her finger in and out very gently.

"When I masturbate, I think of you," she said sweetly.

I couldn't suppress a moan and tears welled up in my eyes.

"When I cum, I think of you…" She added. "You make me feel so… _hot_. That's how it works, isn't it? When you cum, you think of your best lover. Or do you think of your first?"

"No, no, no…" I chanted, bucking my hips.

"I wanna be the one you think about," she whispered. There was a strange edge in her voice, and it frightened me. If we were in a horror movie, this would be the part where she killed me. But since it was real life, she strapped on a black dildo instead. The device was modest and unassuming, just like Gi, but my heart raced at the prospect. I felt her kneel behind me and place the cool, smooth tool against my opening. My body ached for her, but this would not be a mutual gratification.

"What about you?" I groaned, spreading my legs and exposing my sex.

"_This_ is for me," she answered.

The penis-shaped toy parted my walls, cooling my burning pussy and starching that deep itch. I'd forgotten what it was like to fuck a penis (or mock penis). I'd forgotten how the inner lips move back and forth with the intruder, building pleasure for both. I'd forgotten the force behind the device when someone else is in control. But it was more than just remembering. This time, I learned something new, too. Being bent over and taken from behind with a long dick, Gi struck my g-spot. It swelled and became ultrasensitive, and every time she entered, I wept for release. This wasn't like rubbing my clit and pinching my nipples. This pleasure was deep and new; I didn't know this road or how long it would take to travel. This was new, and entirely ours. She'd been right about one thing… I wasn't comparing this to anything else. I wasn't comparing _her_. It was just us: fucking and crying and moaning.

"_Putain_! _Ca me fait jouir_!" I warned her, gripping the post.

She penetrated me so deep that her hot cunt slapped my swollen clit, and her pace increased to help me along. Her long, soft fingers reached around and stroked my clit. I couldn't stop pleading with her, although I don't know what I was asking for. And then I came so hard that my entire body shook and my eyes rolled back. I could hear Gi moan deeply, as if she got some real pleasure from getting me off. I felt my soul stretch out to fill my fingers, my toes, the back of my eye balls, and the tip of my tongue. My skin and spirit melded together to become one, and it burned with all-consuming love for her.

"_Je t'aime_, Gi. I love you, baby." I slumped on the floor, my knees raw but my flesh content.

She pulled out of me and removed her strap-on. Then she showered me with kisses, still very much aroused. I slipped out of my cuffs (which made her giggle) and returned her kisses.

"You came like a man," she told me.

"_Quoi_?"

"You ejaculated. I didn't know girls could so that."

"I did?"

She nodded with a naughty grin. "Wanna do it again?"

.::.

"I hate this," Uri sulked.

It was a typical Saturday night, and the lot of us decided to hit the town. We went to one of our favorite pizzerias, forgetting it was Valentine's Day. Louie's little joint normally wasn't busy at all. It was a popular place with the student crowd because the food was cheap, the tables weren't bolted to the floor, and the refills were free. But this night, all the restaurants were busy, even Louie's. We were surrounded by failing blind dates and awkward internet-meets. The one, lonely waitress was exhausted and agitated, and all around were reminders of this greeting-card holiday, making us feel out of place.

"I don't understand this fascination with pink and red," Saben said, daring to look around. "Is it erotic?"

I laughed for the first time all evening. "Saben, you're not supposed to know what that word means!"

It was true; he was only thirteen.

"And _you're_ not supposed to have sex with girls," he countered. He opened a sealed package of Twinkies, which would serve as his dinner. He'd pushed a lot of his boundaries since meeting us, but he still wouldn't eat public food.

"_One_ girl," I corrected. "I only sleep with Gi."

"So Uri!" My brother sighed. "How 'bout dis weather?"

"Why do we need a holiday to remind us of how _lonely_ we are?" Uri whined.

"Are you lonely, mate?" Renegade said. "I'll be your date!"

"What'd you know about it? Mr. _Engaged-at-Fifteen_!"

If _Uri_ was in a bad mood, it was a bad thing, and there was no being cheerful about it. Poor Uriah had always been the underdog – green-skin and obese – but he'd always dealt with it through humor. I'd never known him to be so ugly.

"What's the matter?" Giana asked him gently, leaning forward so that her chocolate curls spilled over her shoulders and almost fell into her soda.

"Do you guys know I'm gay?" Uri blurted out.

An awkward silence possessed our corner table.

Finally, Saben saved us. "I thought you were _lonely_. Now you're suffering because of your sexual identity?"

"I'm serious! You guys are my best friends. Do you even _know_?"

"I t'ought you like musicals a little too much," René said.

Everyone laughed except for Uri, so I tried to salvage this conversation. He was about to leave angry, and would leave behind a divide in his wake.

"So you like _guys_," I said. "I like babes! He's black! She's gorgeous! And he's the most anal retentive person on earth! Who cares? We just _are_ what we _are_. Could we please not make a big deal out of it?"

"Easy for you to say, honey. Your parents have never even talked to you about it, have they? Like having a super hot daughter who could have _any_ man she wants - but _prefers_ ladies - is just the most _natural_ thing in the world!"

"Are you callin' me a _freak_?" I asked, to a round of laughter.

Uri wasn't amused. "And at least you had someone to do it _with_ you."

"I'll come out with you!" I joked.

We all burst out laughing again, and this time, Uri really did leave. We called after him, but to no avail.

"Rough night…" Giana said sadly, resting against my arm.

"Yeah, let's say we call it a day, troops," I conceded.

We said our good-byes outside and then hailed cabs for three different destinations. I hoped Papa and Rogue were faring better, although it wasn't likely. Henri died a year ago this month, and the holiday made it impossible to forget. Papa appeared completely unaffected, but that was just the way he liked to appear. Rogue was doing much better now; she could sleep through the night and discuss having more children. But sometimes I'd hear her crying in her room. Normally, my father would be there with the right words and confident smile, but lately he was more likely to ask her why she was upset. Whenever Saben was confronted with death, he'd say rather coldly: "What's there to talk about? He's dead." That's what Papa was like now: my highly-functional, autistic, teenaged friend. The twins were getting bolder with their questions about Henri. I suppose it had to happen eventually. They kept asking the same questions, and regardless of how many times and how many ways we explained, they didn't understand. They couldn't comprehend the _permanence_ of death.

Renegade and I came home to a dark house. Lena had fallen asleep in Rogue's rocker with a light still on. I woke up our dear nanny with a kiss and relieved her of her post. Then Renegade ran up to his room (to call Uri without my noticing, but of course, I knew), and I checked on the little ones. Hero slept deeply in her pitch-black yellow and white nursery. The twins _were_ asleep until I opened the door. The light from the hallway woke up Ollie, and he rubbed his eyes and called, "Momma?" Then Becca woke up, and they were both distressed that I wasn't their mother. I got them back to sleep, and (feeling a little guilty) went back downstairs to watch television.

_But wait! There's more!-*_

_*-The brand new duster buster! It __**sweeps**__! It-*_

_*-There is no doubt that this wedding is going to be the wedding of the __**century**__! You've got to understand, Ry, Johnny Sanchez and Soledad Lopez are like __**royalty**__ in the Latin realm, and __**everyone**__ wants to be a part of their big-*_

_*-Up next, news at eleven. Legendary mutant rights advocate Charles Xavier diagnosed with stage four Legacy Virus-_

I literally fell off the couch and stopped breathing. Professor Xavier was on his death bed. He was in Genosha: far from home and the ones he loved. He had never been particularly kind to me, but he was very dear to the people I loved: my father and Rogue, Tante Ro and Logan, Nate, Dr. McCoy, Dr. MacTaggert… Did they know? No, they couldn't _all_ be keeping this a secret. No doubt, he hid his condition well because of his isolation. Did anyone visit him at all? How long had he been conducting his affairs through telepathy and technology?

The door opened and Papa and Rogue stumbled in, leaning on each other and laughing. Once they saw me on the floor with my mouth open, they sobered up.

"What happened, sugah? Did ya have a vision?"

"Professor Xavier!" I gaped. "He's got the Legacy Virus! Stage four!"

"Stage four?" asked Papa, "What does dat mean?"

"Well," I said, "let's say there isn't a stage _five_."

"How d'ya know this?" Rogue said.

I pointed at the television and yelled: "The _news_!"

They put me back on the sofa and tried to comfort me before disappearing into the next room. They were doing their stuff, I knew – making calls, making plans, offering assistance… For some reason, I stayed where I was. I felt more lost than I could explain. And why? This man was just another game player to me. I didn't love him; he had never been anything but a puppet master in my life.

The door opened again, and I was startled to realize how much time had elapsed. I'd been gaping at the television for over three hours.

"_Chere_?" Momma pulled her jacket closer to her neck. "What you doin' up?"

I shook off my shock and looked closer at her collar. _A love bite!_

"What're you trying to hide?" I harassed her. "Is that… a _hicky_?"

"Hey, Momma needs love, too!"

"And who is this love-giver? What are his _intentions_?"

A smile crept over her lips as she answered: "Pransu."

"You guys are back together! What happened?" I made room for her on the couch. I was glad to finally have some good news, and she was glad to share it.

"You don't know dis, but de man had a lotta problems - t'ings I just couldn't _stand_ about him. He's from an arranged marriage, divorced – just like me. 'Cept his wasn't so long ago. And he still lives wit' his ex and dere boys, like your papa and me. I t'ink it was too much for him. He still had feelin's for her, and her bein' so close didn't help. His parents wanted him t' reconcile t'ings wit' her, and I t'ink his kids wanted it, too. De man was always hot an' cold wit' me. Between dat an' his job, I never seen him! And every time I did, he had a phone call or crisis. Fin'ly, I just said 'de hell wit' him!' Why I gonna put myself t'rought dat bullshit? I got enough drama wit' you and your papa and René! But he been sendin' me flowers, callin' every day… Asked me for another date, and I didn't have plans tonight, so…"

"And it was love at second chance?" I said.

She giggled and shook her head. "He's moved out of his ex's house."

"Look at you! Carrying on like some love-struck teenager! You _disgust_ me."

"He showed me his little apartment in de city. We had dinner, drinks, went dancin'… All very New York. And he kept sayin' how much he missed me, and how great it be t' see me every day."

"Gave you the keys, did he?"

"I don't know 'bout dat! But I definitely see him more often, I t'ink."

.::.

"You have an hour to complete the examination," Dr. McCoy reminded us with glee, bouncing on his heels. "The organs you need to locate are written on the board, in case you misplace your written instructions."

"Or puke all over it," muttered Bethany Burbins.

"There's no need for alarm, I assure you," he continued. "You have copiousness time, and you may use your text book for guidance. Once you have removed the required pieces, please place them in the designated pans. You may begin now."

My class was in the science lab, all of us wearing our rubber gloves and face masks. There stood four people to every table, and on every table lay a dead pig on a little tray. We'd known about this project all year long, and some of the girls tried to back out. Not me. My mother would've died of shame if I turned yellow over cutting up a dead piggy. I worked with Giana, Uri and a purple-skinned over-achiever named Paras Gavaskar. They were my friends, but they were also the smartest people in my class. Once Dr. McCoy gave up permission to begin, we looked at each other.

Gi covered her face and squealed: "Oh God!"

"God left this place long ago, boys!" Uri cried out. "If you wanna see His creations again, you better _cut_! Cut like you've never gutted a pig before!"

I laughed, but Paras held up the written map. "We should probably start with the kidneys. That'll be-"

"On the back," I finished. I flipped the little dead piggy over and sliced open his thick skin.

"Uh, awesome…" Paras said. "The intestines are next."

Dr. McCoy paused in his stroll around the classroom, examining our swine. "Very well executed, Miss LeBeau. Mr. Gavaskar, why don't you retrieve the next organ?"

His purple face paled, but he bravely took the scalpel. He turned half the intestines to goosh, but he did pull them out.

Dr. McCoy moved back to the front of the class. "It would benefit everyone to take a part in every roll."

"Let me try!" Gi cried with enthusiasm. She grabbed the little sliver knife and aimed for the heart. I had seen this before… Reluctance turned to lust… And I was more than a little turned on. Our team completed the assignment, working together as instructed, so I was sure Dr. McCoy would give us high marks. Afterwards, I stayed behind to help Dr. McCoy clean up the laboratory.

"While I appreciate the exertion, Miss LeBeau, you are no longer my aide. Extracurricular activities aren't required…" He watched me for a moment, the blue fur between his eyes creasing. "Or is there another motive for your generosity? Perhaps there is someone at home you wish to circumvent."

I turned off the water faucet and picked over my words carefully. Quite unexpectedly, tears welled in my eyes. I avoided looking at him as I spoke. "Every day… he's a different person… I just never know how to handle him."

He was quiet for a moment. I could hear the spokes turning in his mind. "Do you think we should pursue another method of treatment?"

"I dunno, Doc. Seems like everything we do to try and help him just makes it _worse_. Maybe we should just… I dunno, let him work it out."

"I understand this is _frustrating_, but recall those first few days you spent under Dr. MacTaggert's care – how excruciating and maddening they were. But you stayed the course and are _better_ for it. Perhaps Gambit doesn't express this, but I _know_ you are a great source of inspiration for him. Please, do not lose _heart_."

My tears fell in the sink, unnoticed.

.::.

In April, I saw Ethan for the first time in over a year. We didn't meet in person. I saw him on the front page of the newspaper – one of hundreds in a riot in Chile. He looked dirty, hungry, and just as crazed as Nate had described, but it was a riot, after all. The mutant leader Magnus "Magneto" found out that Rev. William Stryker was hiding there, and led half a nation to Chile to flush him out. They succeeded and "tried" him, found him guilty of crimes against _homo superior_, and executed him. I don't know Ethan's role; his face was one of many now broadcasted across newspapers and television screens. Some said they were the hand of justice; others said they were vigilantes. The UN was too afraid of Magneto to deal with him directly, so once again, Xavier tried to act as peacemaker. Even though he was dying of the Legacy Virus, he was still desperate to maintain peace between mutants and humans. And _because_ he was dying, Magneto was more willing to appease him.

.::.

Once spring had a firm footing and late snows were no longer a concern, my family decided to take a trip. We headed to Puerto Rico to watch my godfather, Johnny, marry his sweetheart. Because of his super-star status, the whole thing was very hush-hush. It was exciting, really: like going on a secret mission with my whole family. A vacation was just what we needed, too. This was a chance to shake the dust off and air out our issues. We took a commercial flight, even though Johnny offered to rent a private plane for us. We knew he'd be flying his nine siblings, mother, and in-laws from all over the world, and asking for the same treatment seemed too much a burden. We couldn't decline the hotel accommodations, though, and I'm glad we didn't! Johnny put us in a villa with three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen and a living room. Momma took the younger girls in her room, Ollie bunked with Papa and Rogue, and René and I shared the last room. He and I had the smallest of the three, but at least we didn't have to share with the kiddies. They didn't require much space, but made enough noise to fill the room.

The night before Johnny's wedding, I dreamed about Vaughn. I took him in my arms as we lay together. It was too dark to see, but warm and soft. I could feel his naked body against mine, and he shivered slightly as though cold. So I pulled him closer: giving him the shelter of my body. I heard a song that only angels know. It's light and airy, soothing the roughest heart and taming the wildest beast. The devil played it for God before the Fall of Heaven. Sometimes unborn children hear the melody and dance inside the womb. Otherwise, it is too sacred for mortal ears. But I heard the song in my dream. And I saw us lying together. My skin was so pale against his. We made a beautiful item. But he… _He_ was divine: lips slightly open, breath falling on my neck, eyes shut and gently fluttering. While I watched him sleep, I heard his voice speak from somewhere else.

"_I love you so much, Honor."_

Was he dreaming of me, too?

"_I don't care if you never love me 'cause I've got a dick… I love you wit' all my heart."_

"_Vaughn-"_

…

I awoke feeling cleansed, and wanted to bask in the afterglow. I couldn't remember ever feeling so… _pure_.

But, as usual, Momma served as my cold wake-up call.

"Up! _Up_! Lazy bones! You s'post t' be showered an' dressed already! Now see, your little sister's ready t' go. Why ain't you?"

Hero and the twins ran in after her and scurried atop my bed, their little faces cheerful and bright. How could _anyone_ be so happy so early in the day? Momma turned and left, waving a dismissive hand. Across the room, Renegade pulled the blankets over his head and groaned. The little ones bounced from my bed to his and back again, all chanting: _"Up! Up! Up! Up!"_

From the moment I rolled out of bed, my day never stopped. I had promised Giana I'd call at some point during my three days in Puerto Rico. Being the dear she is, she declined my promise. She knew better than I did that time would not permit me to keep all my promises. But I had true intentions. The hours slipped away like seconds, and the moments I wanted to dwell in forever fled like shadows.

We had breakfast at the hotel cafeteria with Johnny, Solie and their immediately families. I never could keep them all straight, and to make matters worse, Johnny had two brothers who were twins. Since Johnny was the baby, they were all married with children, and I didn't even bother introducing myself to the spouses and children. But his mother, Momma Sanchez, I knew from my trip to Mexico several years ago. That was back when Momma and Jean-Luc were trying to kill each other, so Johnny sent me to live with her. I'd gotten very sick and almost died, but that wasn't Momma Sanchez's fault. She treated me as best she could. Since I'd last seen her, she'd gotten even shorter, rounder, and grayer. But some old dogs never slow down, and that was her attitude. She was awake before dawn, hemming the bridesmaids' dresses, and rushing us to brush our teeth and polish our faces. She treated my brothers and sisters like her own grandchildren, telling them children's stories in Spanish. They didn't understand a word she said, but they liked her enough to listen to the words. She'd never met my parents before, either, and her blurry, lined eyes lit up at the sight of my father.

((Oh… Hello, handsome.)) She snuggled her plump body against my father: her white hair barely reached his rib cage.

((Mrs. Sanchez?))

((Guadalupe, please…))

((This is a very- ahhh-ha-ha-)) My father made this sort of nervous, sing-song cry that hit every note in his octave. ((Hands! _Hands!_))

Momma Sanchez smiled sweetly at him. ((If you'd only been born fifty years earlier…. Oh, the things I could teach you!))

((Mrs. Sanchez, do you know how long it's been since a woman's made _me_ blush?))

We all had a good laugh at his expense. Even Rogue was happy to watch Momma Sanchez pinch his butt and hug his waist… _at first_. Before long, though, she was calling Momma Sanchez to do this or that somewhere else. Finally, she had to leave the kiddies with me and attach herself to him permanently like a human fortress.

"And ta think," Rogue vented, "_Ah_ was worried about the _bridesmaids_!"

"Tell y' de truth, chere," said Papa, "I wish dey had been after me. 'Least I know how t' let down a pretty girl easy. How you tell a woman old enough t' be your grandmere dat she not wanted? Hell, de heartbreak pro'ly finish her off!"

"Ah can't take you anywhere!"

"_Oui_," he grinned and rubbed his chin, "Dis handsome face _is_ a curse."

I couldn't say how much Johnny and Solie spent on their wedding, nor did I care. But whatever the sum, it was worth every cent. They married in a cathedral centuries old and filled to the brim with loved ones. Johnny had six brothers and three sisters; Solie had four sisters and a tightly-knit extended family: aunts and cousins who were practically mothers and sisters. She wore a white ball gown with a Mother-Mary lace veil; he wore a white tuxedo. The ceremony was a traditional Catholic wedding (minus the full Mass, thank God). They had harpists and violinists, and had doves released in lieu of rice. At the ceremony, Momma and I were allowed to sit with the family, but because Johnny's family was so large, we were still six rows back. Of course, being the silly Catholics we were, we all wept: Johnny not least of all. The reception was held at an old hotel styled after the Spanish influence. It was decorated in aqua, chocolate and white colors; roses dripping from the centerpieces, and a traditional mariachi band filled the air with music. Inevitably, Johnny and Solie performed a song, but only one on the spur of the moment. We played drinking games, formed a soul train, and Johnny spared _two_ dances for me. One of the best parts was when Solie surprised Johnny with his wedding gift. It was a collectable, antique car in working order. He wept with gratitude and named his new 1953 Ford Thunderbird "Sole" after his new bride. By ten p.m., Momma and I were exhausted, but the after-party was just kicking off. Papa, Rogue and the twins left hours earlier. Renegade could dance until he died from starvation, so we left him there, carrying a sleeping Hero back to our room. I carried my heels and Momma's stilettos and she carried my sister as we walked the three blocks back to our hotel. Multiple taxis stopped and offered their services, but otherwise, the street was quiet. I think my godfather rented out the entire town. The air was slightly cool, the stars clear and hopeful above us. The moon graciously lit our way, and everywhere we went, we could hear the ocean.

"I wanted to tell you something," I said, breaking the silence. "It isn't fair to bind Chaucer Prideaux to me, knowing I'm barren. _And_ he's in love with someone else."

"As are you," she responded briskly. "Ain't dat what dis is _really_ about?"

"Momma, this match was _supposed_ to unite a fraction inside the Guild, but it's turned us against each other. People see that, and they will oppose it, too. Tante Mercy was _supposed_ to be mother to the next generation of the LeBeau dynasty. People still _love_ her. And I know you don't want to hear it, but the Thieves are more loyal to _her_ than they are to _you_."

She looked at me hard. "When did you get so wise?… But I gave m' word, _chere_. Besides, Prideaux still controls de treasury. You know another way t' make sure he plays fair, I'd like t' hear it. While you betrothed t' Chaucer, he gotta obey my orders or I will break de engagement and his family will be disgraced. Once you married, you have access t' all his power."

I hated to admit this even to myself, but Momma had a point. Gaston needed to be kept on a short leash.

"'Sides," she added with a sly grin. "Just 'cause you married don't mean you can't take lovers."

.::.

"_Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Ollie and Becca-"_

"_-Olivier and Rebecca-"_

"_B-Bebs and Ollie-Otts-"_

"_Happy birthday to yooouuuu!"_

My twin siblings giggled and blew out three candles, each fighting to extinguish more than the other. They both wore khaki pants and black high-tops, and Becca wore a blue blouse with pig-tails while Ollie wore a red t-shirt. They were beginning to establish their independence, and usually had a tendency to wear snow hats with shorts or mismatched socks or no underwear… But Rogue was quite insistent today. Tante Ro and Logan flew in from San Francisco, adding an enormous amount of gifts to the pile. Otherwise, it was just the immediate family, although there were quite a bit of us. I knew Rogue had invited her mother, but Mystique was nowhere in sight. How sad. My little brother and sister were three-years-old now. They weren't little babies anymore; they were little people, and they would never be babies again. She had missed that part of their lives, and now they didn't even have memories of Mystique. My youngest sister, Hero, peered hopefully at the pile of beautifully wrapped toys. I knew this would happen. I knew she'd be heart-broken and feel left out. Momma said it wasn't Hero's birthday. She'd had her birthday party in March, three months ago. The twins were there, and they watched her be the center of attention and get all those presents to herself…

But Hero was very different from the twins, and she was too young to understand things yet. All she knew was that Becca and Ollie got more presents. Well, there were _two_ of them, so of course there were twice as many gifts. Also, they had _two_ parents, so they got twice the attention. Hero wouldn't throw a fit, but she'd be hurt nonetheless. At the twins' party, I handed out the presents, making sure Ollie and Becca each got something to open together. Becca got a little tool set, a new dress, some toy ponies, and a large, Victorian style doll house to assemble with her tools. Ollie got a soccer ball, a pair of sneakers that flashed, batman action figures, and a pair of boxing gloves from Logan.

"A little early to encourage him to violence, ain't it?" said Rogue.

"Ain't gotta _encourage_ him, darlin'. Boy's got in bred into him."

He wasn't wrong. Ollie loved to rumble, and even though he usually lost, he always came back for more. Lately, Logan had been trying to channel Ollie's energy into _judo_, and I think Ollie _tried_ to please his godfather... But Brother's mind was as unfocused as it was enthusiastic.

"And what's this?" I picked up the last present: a narrow box wrapped in yellow paper and tied with a purple ribbon.

Hero leaned forward on Momma's lap: her little face full of dying hope.

The twins were distracted with their own gifts.

"Hero?" I feigned surprise.

Her little brown face lit up and she jumped off Momma's lap. Inside was a Barbie doll in a pink dress. The toy was nowhere near as impressive as the toys she got for her birthday, but this one meant more. She brushed Barbie's blond hair and hummed gently to herself, dimples shinning all the while.

"How did _Hero_ get a present at someone _else's_ party?" Momma said crossly.

"Guess we just missed it last time," I shrugged.

After the party, Tante Ro and Logan had to fly out again. They were both headed east: Logan to visit Professor Xavier in Genosha, and Tante Ro to the African providence of Wakanda. Papa and Rogue drove them to the airport while Momma put the little ones down for a nap. Renegade and I volunteered to clean up, and while we were alone, I admitted to repeat visions.

"Remember what I Saw in Egypt? I Saw it again… I've had this… vague feeling of impending doom lately. I can't shake it."

"You just like to worry," he said brightly. "Try to enjoy de day, will you?"

"There's so much to worry about... How're your toxin levels?"

"Workin' on it… Got your period yet?"

"I'm _sick_ of hearing that!" I snapped, shoving a stack of paper plates into an overfilled garbage bag. "No one ever cared before!"

Renegade was silently choosing his next words with caution. "You could be pregnant. Wanna get a lid on dat."

"I haven't had sex with a man in a year!"

"Nah, I seen dos men in N'awlins undressin' you wit' dere eyes. Most of dem old enough to be your father, too; oughta be ashamed of themselves. But dat one… What was his name? Daumier? Optical intercourse was probably all he needed to knock you up."

"_Optical_-?" I burst out laughing.

"You Cajuns like Mexicans. Just _think_ it and someone's preggers. You only keepin' it secret 'cause you know Momma's been training me. I could clip dat _buckra_ wit' my eyes, too. Nah, I _kiss_ him instead. Take a page from Rogue - kiss him deadly!"

I laughed until I cried, which made my brother as proud as a peacock. A large part of him enjoyed entertaining others. I should've felt as happy as I looked, but beneath my smile, that lingering feeling of doom was ever-present.

.::.

_Tess and I were at the L' Opera Garnier this time. I could tell that she was impressed, despite her strongest attempts not to be. The décor was so unapologetically opulent – so outrageously extravagant – that modern eyes have nothing to compare it to. The opera house is a reminder of times long past and long since condemned as sinful. She wore a black, strapless gown with blue sequins and long, white gloves. I wore the gown Jean-Luc bought me in Paris especially for this event. At the time, my fingers were in bandages, my eyes were wrapped up, and my hair had been brutally cut away. I felt hideous. But when he took me to the City of Lights and put that red and gold gown on me… People say you can't buy happiness, but that dress made me __**more**__ than happy. I didn't think I could ever feel __**beautiful**__ again. Tess and I were watching a performance of Madama Butterfly from the balcony. The remaining seats – nearly two thousand of them – were filled with cardboard figures. The opera itself is breath-taking. Truly, one of the most beautiful pieces ever created. I was in heaven and with my girl… What more could I want?_

"_Are you happy here?" Tess asked me._

_I smiled. "I've never seen this one before. Luc told me about it. The first time he saw it performed, he was in Moscow. He was late for the show, and took his regular seat in the balcony. The prima donna was the most gorgeous woman he'd ever seen… He said when she sang, there was no one else in the world. Just them two. Her name was Matilda. I think she was the great love of his life…"_

_She raised an eye brow. "Is Luc important?"_

"_Her mother died in childbirth, and Matilda always knew that's how she'd die, too. She never wanted to marry or have children until she met Luc. Things weren't easy for them… She never liked his involvement with the Guild. He wasn't Guildmaster yet, but he had taken the Elixir. Her death was very sudden, and they never really resolved their issues. I don't think it matter, though… In the end…"_

"_I know sometimes it's refreshing to step back and watch others perform, but you have a role to fill, too."_

_I looked at her, startled. "I know that. I have a role as a student and daughter and sister. __**That's**__ the role I'm fulfilling. Jesus Christ, Tess, let me enjoy being a kid!"_

"_You're not a kid, honey," she said coldly. "I don't think you've __**ever**__ been a kid. What you __**are**__ is __**scared**__. But he's coming whether or not you want him to." She stood and walked towards the exit, peeling her gloves off._

_I turned and called to her, "Where are you going?"_

"_Your world is not my world, 'On. That's why we didn't last."_

.::.

Tess was right. She always was. But the thought of Seeing and trying to change things again was torturous. I was so much happier being ignorant and dealing with things _after_ they'd happened. Didn't Papa say that's how life was supposed to be lived? So I occupied myself with my family and friends and school until the summer took away school and friends. Then I threw myself into practicing piano and bonding with the kiddies. But eventually, my family and I got sick of each other, and music doesn't keep you warm at night. Once my inspiration dried out, I found myself alone and restless in my room.

I still had my dream book – the one Ms. Frost-Summers and I compiled almost two years ago. I flipped through the meager dictionary and extensive journal entries. Had I _ever_ been so involved in my own thoughts? I closed the thick book and put it back in its place on my bookcase. It was getting late, and some sleep would do me good.

.::.

_I was sleeping in Momma's bed. She was out on a mission again… Extending the Judgment of God, she told me. She was killing, and it was hard for me to forgive that. More than anything, I wanted her to just come home. I wanted God to keep her safe, but how could I pray for such a thing? If I reminded God to look at her, He might strike her down for murder. I was hiding in her bed like a mouse in a sea of blankets. The pillow smelled like her, but the sheets smelled like someone else…_

_Johnny found me in my mother's bed. I expected he would carry me back to my own room, but he crawled into bed with me. If anyone else did what he did to me, I would have fought back. I would have hit them, kicked them, and ran away. But Johnny was the one person in the world I trusted above all others: even more than Momma. Momma smacked me, spanked me, lied to me, and then yelled at me for calling her a liar. I only saw him unbutton his own shirt. Then I closed my eyes as tightly as I could and forced myself out of the dream._

I awoke in my bed in Poughkeepsie, my heart racing. I just _knew_ Johnny would walk through that door any moment, and I shook with fear. My entire body was covered in a fine layer of sweat, but I felt dirty beneath my skin, too. I'd come to associate that dirty feeling with premonitions. They always left me unnerved and disturbed. Why would I dream such a thing? My head was _too_ fucked up. I rolled out of bed and fled downstairs to the kitchen. I moved silently and turned on as few lights as possible to avoid waking up anyone else, but I had to avoid the small messes left over from the birthday party. While making a kettle of tea, my hands trembled so violently that I dropped the sugar. The blue clay pot shattered and white grains spilled all around me. I sat down on the floor and cried helplessly.

"You white as a sheet, _chere_," Papa said from the doorway.

I hadn't heard him coming. Moving stiffly, he cleaned up the sugar and helped me to a chair. Then he finished getting my tea ready and fetched a little blanket from the living room. He wrapped it around my shoulders, and I instantly smelled the twins. I thought of their sweet innocence and wept hot tears.

"Thank you," I said hoarsely.

"_Non_, dat's what a papa does. He takes care of his petites." He remained standing behind me, never asking me why I cried. One hand rested on my shoulder while the other stroked my hair. "T'ank you for helping wit' de twins party today," he said. "I hate dat I missed all your birthdays. Tell me de truth, was my brother dere? Jean-Luc? 'Least dey _knew_ about it. You know what dat's like, _tite fille_? To find out _everybody_ done lied to you? And dey did it 'cause dey didn't t'ink I'd be any good wit' you. I'm a _damn_ fine father. 'Sides thievin' and charmin', it's de _only_ thing I'm good at."

I stopped crying and listened.

"_You_ know dat, don't you? 'Cause no one else believes it," he said. "De way Anna talks t' me, I know she wishes I'd skip town. Give her de babies and just leave. Can't leave me alone wit' dem! But Belle? She worse. Don't tell me 'bout you, don't leave me alone wit' you, don't want me talkin' to you… Hell, can't even pick out your husband! Just do what she says or she'll turn de girl against you. Ain't fair, _petite_, you're my child, too!"

"I know, Papa." I tried to stand up, but he pushed me back into my chair.

Too late, I understood my dream. It was as vivid as a vision, but it didn't make sense. I'd been a little girl. Johnny had never raped me, and my vision could never happen now. It wasn't a literal vision but a symbolic one. It was trying to warn me of a violation of nature: a parent destroying their child.

"Now I gotta live wit' dat _femme_ after what she done t' me. I know you t'ink I'm crazy – all of you. It's just what dey been lookin' for… De excuse t' take away my babies. I can't let dat happen, _catin_. Not again. I ain't lettin' dem take you away-"

His voice had morphed into something grading and hoarse. His hand on my shoulder was black as a water-logged corpse. This time, I forcefully escaped his grasp and ran towards Momma's room.

"Oh, _petite_… You shouldn't have done dat…"

I made it up the stairs and down the hallway towards her closed door. In a flash, he went from the kitchen to the second-story hallway. I was running, but I never heard him move. I only felt him grab a handful of my hair and yank me back so forcefully that my feet flew out from under me. A scream escaped my lips and my ass hit the ground. Still holding my hair, he pulled me down the hall. If I cried for help, Momma and Rogue would leave the little ones helpless. He would kill us all in our sleep. I gripped my hair and tried to move faster than he was; I was trying to knock him over. It was no use. He dragged me a few steps and then threw me up against the wall. His strong, black hands clamps around my neck, cutting off my air immediately.

"Papa, _please_… You don't wanna do this!" I whispered in a scream. "You said you always missed me… even before you knew about me! …Just like _I_ missed _you_… _Remember_? …That night in Valle Soleada-"

He parted his lips and inhuman heat rolled out. I tried to shut my eyes and mouth to the poisonous fumes, but it burned like pepper spray. My skin felt the heat of acid and fire in water form; I was sure it was melting away. I coughed and spit up and fought against his grip, but his insanity made him immune to any wounds I could inflict. The blood in my head pounded, demanding fresh breath with each painful throb.

"_You and me; I t'ink we need each other."_

Suddenly, the unshakeable hand that held me down shook and released me. I collapsed and took a deep gasp of unclean air. My lungs protested, but the pain in my head faded almost entirely. My vision was blurred, but I turned towards the loud brawl nearby - just in time to see my father sprint away and my mother follow him. I took another greedy gasp for air and coughed up a mouthful of bile on Rogue's shirt, but she and I were extremely grateful for this moment. I was _alive_! She stroked my hair and told me to relax, that she'd stopped my father from killing me.

"The kiddies-!"

"Are in the panic room," she calmly replied.

"I'm sorry, Rogue," I cried. "I _knew_ this would happen; I should've said something!"

"Rogue! _Rogue!"_ Momma screamed in the distance.

"Ah have to go," Rogue said. "Get to the panic room and mind the youngin's."

"No! I'm coming with you!"

There was no time to argue. We followed Momma's voice to the roof, and on the other side of the house, Papa sat perched on the summit of my tower. His back was towards us, so I couldn't see his eyes. But his white hair was a healthy shade of brown again, which meant he was himself. I didn't like the way his body leaned over the edge: as if he _meant_ to leap. I didn't think the fall would kill him (especially since he had the elixir), but it would definitely hurt like hell. He'd probably shatter all the bones below his waist _if_ he landed on his feet.

"Remy! What're you doin'?" Rogue yelled. "Get back inside, sugah!"

He didn't acknowledge her plea. His eyes looked into the darkness, as if he saw something we could not. He didn't seem to be ignoring us; honestly, I don't think he was even aware of our existence.

"Honor's all right! See? Now come back inside and help her get cleaned up!"

He stood.

"Remy?"

He stepped off the roof and plummeted out of sight.

"_REMY_!"

"Get t' de panic room!" Momma pushed me back inside. "De others already dere! _Goddamnit_, Julien! Do _not_ argue wit' me on dis!"

I knew Momma was scared, and if she thought she needed to protect me, she'd probably kill my father for safe measure. So I went to the panic room like a coward, hating myself even as my brothers and sisters ran to greet me.

.::.

Papa didn't die or shatter half the bones in his body. Far as we could tell, he stepped off the face of the earth. Momma asked Rogue to keep this "in the family". The Guild had extensive networks, and they would most likely be the network Papa would use. All we needed to say was that we were looking for him, and we wanted him alive. People would probably assume he'd tried to run out on a love-child or some personal debt. That stain on his reputation was still more honorable than the mark of insanity. This was a quiet and effective way to track him, and I was certain we could bring him home. But Rogue's "family" was the X-Men, and that's who she would always turn to in her time of need. She believed Emma's telepathy was more accurate and quicker than my precognition. She believed Dr. McCoy could provide the tools and Summers could provide the strength. Most importantly, she believed using the X-Men would protect _me_ from my father.

"Maybe your Papa don't wanna be found," was Momma's advice.

"He's out of his mind," I reminded her.

"_Mais_, maybe he don't _need_ t' be found. Your Papa ain't _stupid_, _chere_. And he ain't _weak_, either. If he walked away from us… He had a reason for it. He got somet'ing he needs t' work out, and in a place where he won't hurt de people he loves."

My mother so rarely showed kindness that I couldn't reject it. But I knew the truth: she was only trying to brace me for tragedy. She believed Papa would be conquered by his demons and would kill himself. She didn't think we'd ever see him again, and she'd disguised her indifference as respect. I wasn't buying it. As quickly as Momma could turn her head and Rogue could call San Francisco, I sent out a mental flare. Nate answered; I knew he would.

_*Chica? Are you all right?*_

_*I need your help, Nate. I'm sorry to barge in like this, but I __**really**__ need you.*_

_*I'm listening…*_

I told him about my father's mental illness – all of it. I told him how we'd been missing the signs for months, and how we intentionally lied even after we discovered the truth. Finally, Dr. McCoy discovered his condition and tried to help, but it had been too little, too late. I told him about Papa trying to kill me, and how he'd disappeared. Finally, I told him that Momma was willing to let him die but Rogue…

_*Rogue's asked your father and Emma to help find him, but… That's a bad idea, Nate. You can see that, can't you?*_

_*So what'd you have in mind?*_

I was suddenly filled with mistrust. I had a horrible premonition that Nate had deceived me. Was he working for his father now? It had been so long since we'd spoken… Maybe my call had been answered by an imposture posing as my friend. I'd been so certain of his ability just a few minutes ago. What had changed?

_*I don't know,*_ I told him.

_*Look, when Sinister had you brainwashed, Jean tried to reach you by bridging the gap between your mind and your father's. It broke you, but just for a minute. I think if your father's mind had been better trained, the plan might've been more effective. You've been trained, and you've got experience. Maybe you and I could try that?*_

_*Yes! Nate, that's brilliant!*_

_*Excellent. You find out what Rogue's planning; I'll find out what my father's up to. Friday night, you get a good night's sleep. Saturday morning, I'll find you. The whole process will only take a second in reality. But you really need to prepare yourself for the worst, 'On. You might lose your father and a piece of your innocence on the way.*_

.::.

"He's still on the Eastern seaboard," Scott 'Cyclops' Summers told the room at large. "We can reach him in less than a day if he stays on the projected course. The objective is to take him _alive_, but don't be afraid to defend yourselves. He's dangerous. And he knows us better than we know him."

The room was dimly lit; the meeting had been quickly assembled. The team was smaller than it had once been, but Beast was present via videophone.

"What about his mind?" asked Kitty Pryde. "Can it be repaired?"

"Difficult to tell," Emma said coolly. "_Personally_, I have my doubts. We aren't dealing with your _typical_ mental issues. Gambit's imbalance was caused by a _chemical_ interference. It was then allowed to _fester_ when his family protected him by concealing his condition. Also, having been in Gambit's mind, I can assure you, he has some _heavy_ defenses. Hank is optimistic, but we can't do _all_ the work. A large part of the responsibility will fall on Gambit. And the rest will fall on his family."

"I would like to _remind_ the committee," said Beast, "That Gambit fled the house once he realized he was a danger to his loved ones. This is clear evidence of his existing sanity."

"Or," Emma crossed her arms, revealing round, ample breasts and belly. "He eliminated a perceived threat and then fled the scene."

"'Fleeing the scene' implies a sense of guilt, or at least fear of prosecution," Beast countered. "Experiencing _either_ of these is indicative of an understanding of right and wrong."

Finally, Logan spoke. "I miss the days when there was less _talking_ or more _doing_."

.::.

_*They're going after him, Nate! They're doing it today! We have to move! __**Now**__!*_

_*Why? Maybe they could catch him, or at least weaken him. Are they going to kill him?*_

_*That's what Emma wants! And you know she __**always**__ gets what she wants!*_

He was silent for a long time. I thought I'd crossed a line with him, but finally he replied. _*We stay with the plan, 'On. We'll try to reach him Saturday morning. Trust your old man to handle himself. And you should trust mine, too. Whatever bad blood there is between the two of you, he's not a cold-blooded killer. He said he'd help Rogue and he will.*_

_*You're wrong.*_

.::.

Hank McCoy did not like to dwell or work in areas of grey. He enjoyed his honest living and ethical work standards. But somehow, the lines always blurred when the X-Men got involved. In order to save a friend, he'd bought a black-market item designed to rob mutants of their abilities. There were many similar items, but only this one didn't require injection or physical contact. Then he had to _lie_ about the weapon: he claimed the design as his own. And now he would _use_ the weapon against a friend. If _this_ wasn't a violation of his oath, nothing would ever be. But he was desperate to save Gambit. If he failed this simple task, Scott would blacklist Remy LeBeau. How could Hank ever face Rogue, knowing he'd help condemn her husband? Of course, Scott would cover it up. He'd say it was an accident or perhaps blame it on Gambit himself… The _truth_ would make Rogue his enemy. Hank hated the procedure, but he couldn't argue with the logic. A murderous, soulless Gambit would spell disaster. He'd probably slaughter his own family before killing or maiming others. In such an instance, Remy would _certainly_ prefer his own extermination.

But the children…

"Hank?" Emma interrupted his thoughts. "Are you ready?"

Gambit was found on a little island in North Carolina. He was completely possessed: black hair, white hair and solid, white eyes. Hank had a feeling of dread immediately. The X-Men needed to assess the situation and return with a plan suited to this target. He suspected his black market weapon would not have the desired effect since Gambit's DNA had _clearly_ been altered. He knew Scott would be too desperate to control the situation because Emma was a key component and five months pregnant. He knew Rogue would turn on them to protect her husband if she needed to. Logan would not hurt Rogue, and Kitty would not challenge Logan. Emma wouldn't compromise and Scott wouldn't hesitate to act. And somehow, it all failed _spectacularly_. After a well-planned and executed attack, Gambit appeared to be powerless, tempting them to lower their guard and come closer. Rogue had him physically contained, and brought him aboard the Blackbird. While Emma was conducting a mental scan, Gambit either re-gained his mutant abilities (or stopped playing helpless) and overwhelmed them. The jet only avoided crashing thanks to Scott's instinct, but the crew was shaken and alarmed. Wolverine wasn't willing to take any more chances. As always, he was not afraid to act. He went for the jugular – quite literally – and while his enthusiasm was appreciated, the venue was completely inappropriate. Emma, too, sensed the potential danger and moved to prevent it. In the nanoseconds before her telepathy struck his black and twisted mind, his physical form reverted back to its natural state. Hank was quite certain everyone witnessed the miraculous transformation, but Emma struck anyway.

"What're you doin'?" cried Rogue.

Emma's intentions were obvious. She was crippling Gambit's psyche (temporarily?) in order to suppress his malicious temperament. In a truly genius stroke, Rogue chose not to attack Emma - but rather Scott. Sensing his anxiety, Emma broke her mental grip. Gambit opened the drop hatch and leapt without parachute or soft landing. The drop was considerable and there was little doubt he would be impaled on the evergreens below. Rogue immediately flew after him and a moment later, Logan followed them. Scott decided to circle back for the wayward crew, but they weren't found, which was surely what they intended. While flying over the grey ocean and outer banks, Scott grimly remembered discussing the mission with Nate earlier in the day.

"_You __**will**__ help him, won't you, Dad? Honor __**knows**__ you're up to __**something**__."_

"_And she's sitting on her hands? Doesn't sound like her."_

"_I know."_

"_If she's planning something, Nate, I __**need**__ to know. The __**last**__ thing I need right now is a rogue agent. If the public finds out about this, they'd have us shut down. We'd have to re-locate to Genosha: it's the last safe haven for mutants. We need to get this under control. I don't need any surprises."_

"_I gave her my __**word**__ that you would help him, so don't let __**me**__ down and I won't let __**you**__ down."_

"Emma," Scott said while flying back to the West Coast. "What have you done?"

"I did what I needed to, darling. I did what no one else could."

.::.

Nate and I worked like mad to try and locate my father, but he simply couldn't be found. My friend was very powerful, but there are a lot of people in the world. My Vision is clearest when I'm physically close to my target. Normally, that might explain my uncertainty, but my parents had always been an exception to this rule. I suppose since their blood is _in_ me, they're always close.

_*Anything?*_ Nate asked me at the end of another fruitless day.

_*No. Nothing.*_

_*What about Rogue? Does she have any leads?*_

_*No.* _

_*Look, 'On, I know you don't trust me right now, and I'm sorry. My dad did the best he could. Emma, too. Things just got out of hand, but I wanna help you. Any ideas?*_

_*No… Nothing.*_

To Be Continued…

**Author's Notes: **In one issue of the GeNext mini-series, Ollie LeBeau tells someone (I think it was Beast) that he and his father are no longer on speaking terms because Ollie's dating Megan, Cyclops's daughter. Ollie says there's bad blood between the families, that they're as bad as the Montagues and Capulets. That might be an exaggeration to compare Olls and Meg to Romeo and Juliet, but assuming he's right, there's got to be some drama. Right now, Gambit and Cyclops have no problem working together, so how things could go so badly in such a short amount of time has been left to the imagination of the reader. Naturally, I'm having a blast building up the bad blood! Things are about to get a lot worse between the Summers and the LeBeaus.

Julian Keller – nothing going on between him and 'On, hope I made that clear. Contrary to what Gambit thinks, Julian hasn't come back to school to prey on innocent young girls. Gambit's seeing enemies in shadows. He's paranoid. The true reason he distrusts Julian comes from his own guilt about the whole Foxx-thing. I think it's also evidence of how little he understands Honor. She's attracted to people with strong personalities and convictions – something Julian clearly lacks.

Language **- "**_Putain_! _Ca me fait jouir"_ literally translates into: "fuck! You make me happy!" but really means: "Fuck! I'm gonna cum." What _else_ do you say in bed? "Buckra" is a Gullah slang word for "stupid white person", more or less. A little bit of history here – Gullah is a culture completely unique to South Carolina. Before and after the Civil War, (freed) slaves had such a hard life, that some decided to flee to an island and make their own way. Isolated from the majority, they created their own language, habits, etc. In my stories, Marie-Therese comes from a Gullah background, and she's the one who taught René the word. When Death was trying to kill Honor, she remembered him saying: "You and me; I think we need each other." That line comes from my very first story, Honor Saga. That's what Gambit says to her shortly after asking her to stay with him permanently. And finally, did you notice Belle call Honor "Julien"? Don't know why, personally. Old people let their minds slip, I suppose.

Phew!


	11. Won't Go Home Without You

**Disclaimer: **I do not own.

**The Ballad of Honor and Tess**

**Won't Go Home Without You**

_The weight of the things that remain unspoken  
Built up so much, it crushed us every day.  
Every night you cry yourself to sleep  
Thinking, why does this happen to me?  
It's not over tonight.  
Just give me one more chance to make it right.  
I may not make it through the night,  
I won't go home without you.  
~Won't Go Home Without You, Maroon 5_

_._

"Ah should've seen this comin'," Rogue admitted. "Cyclops was only willin' to give this _one_ chance to work. Ah think ya'll know that ain't realistic… Ah ain't goin' that route anymore, and Ah'd really appreciate ya'lls help."

My heart leapt with joy, but I saw Momma's eyes darken. Tante Ro had quietly flown back for this kitchen conference, and Nate surprised everyone by showing up. He said I needed his help, and he would always be around when I needed him. I knew he hadn't been completely honest with me earlier, and I was foolish for trusting him now. But I loved him and I needed his help. What choice did I have but to trust him? Other than Nate and Tante Ro, it was just the family – Rogue, Momma, Renegade and me. Since the X-Men had been such a _great_ help, we were now trying to figure out how to clean up their mess.

"What did you have in mind?" asked Tante Ro.

"Ah wanna make this as painless for everyone as possible, so please hear me out. Storm and Ah will track him down. If Ah know the man at all, _he's_ probably waitin' for _me_. Which brings me to my next point: Belle, you need to take the kiddies and get 'm somewhere safe. Ah don't think he's comin' back to hurt them, but if he's after me, Ah don't want ya'll in the crossfire. Honor, Nate – Ah need ya'll to take care of Summers and Frost. Remy's probably at the bottom of their priority list right now, but Ah don't need him on their list at all. Do whatever you need to, but don't hurt anyone."

Momma argued: "So you're takin' de bulls-eye off Remy and puttin' it on m' youngin'? T'ink again, Missy."

"No, Momma," I said, "It's no worry at all. I just need to shake them up a bit and point them in the wrong direction. As long as I've been distracting Summers, this will be a walk in the park!" I took her hand and said quietly: "I have to help _somehow_. You've trained me well, now let me work."

.::.

We agreed to go completely dark. It was highly likely that we wouldn't be able to get in contact with everyone on a regular basis, so we would relay messages through Momma. My mother and the little ones would re-locate to our home in New Orleans, but she insisted Renegade go with me.

"You two are kin now," she'd said, "You tend t' each other."

But truthfully, she still didn't trust me with Nate.

Storm had suggested asking Logan for his help. There was still much to do. Momma might need extra protection; Renegade and I could use inside information; Tante Ro and Rogue would certainly need help with Papa if he were still murderous. But my stepmother decided to omit Logan from our plans.

"We could always use a man on the inside. Right now, there's no one else inside the Summers-Frost circle Ah can trust."

We packed and left that same night. There was no time to waste.

I approached Rogue alone before we all split.

"I know you've put a lot of thought into this, Roguey, but I am _psychic_. Maybe I should go with you to find Papa, and Tante Ro could help Nate and René."

She shook her head and kindly answered: "Storm has too many reservations about… How'd you phrase it? '_Distracting'_ Cyclops. You've got a way with words, just like your father. Ah think you fooled her, but she'd never have the nerve to do it herself. That's why Ah need you. Besides that, your Papa's in a very dark place right now. There's a sacred bond between a parent and child, and Ah'm tryin' to preserve that. So can Ah count on you?"

.::.

My first plan of action was to re-assemble the old team. I seriously considered leaving Uri out of this. One, I didn't want to get him hurt. Two, I wasn't sure he'd support this mission. Once he learned of my father's attempt on my life, he might decline helping the man. But we needed him, so I decided I would at least ask. Renegade and I took a bus to Maine, snuck into his room at night and I told him: "We're driving across the country to infiltrate a very well-protected place. No idea how long we'll be gone, and you won't be able to communicate with anyone but us. It'll be dangerous, but we could always use your help."

"Just let me change my drawers, 'On." He replied. "You scared the _shit_ outta me sneaking in here like that!"

Gathering the remaining two proved much more difficult…

"The _only_ reason Tess ever left was because of _you_," Uri so kindly reminded me. "Look, I'd do it myself, but I don't have your _eyes_ or your _tits_ or your sweet-talking _tongue_. I wouldn't get far."

I knew where she was (Manhattan), but I didn't have time for her games. I would ask and wait thirty minutes for her compliance. I didn't need her… Oh hell, I needed all the help I could get! But I didn't have an eternity to wait on her.

"I'd be glad to help," she told me. "But the decision is up to Shaw, not me."

More games from her! I charged out of her room and down the hall to the room where Shaw was waiting. He sat in a leather chair behind a regal desk, sipping good Scotch. When he saw me enter, he smiled.

"Miss LeBeau, what can I do for you?"

"I need Tess to come with me. I'll bring her back. Do I have your _permission_, or do I need to sign a release form?"

"Well now… If Miss McNeil had asked herself, I might consider. But _you_, my dear, ruined my party, maimed by employees, and ravaged my assistant in the alley like a cheap whore. Are you a cheap whore, Tessa?"

He was referring to an incident several months passed now. I only wanted to speak with Tess, but everything went horribly wrong. I doubted he'd forgotten, but I wouldn't play _puppet_ to him like everyone else in the world.

I looked back at Tess, but she watched the scene like a bystander.

"You are asking me for a favor, Miss LeBeau, when you are already in my debt," Shaw said. "If you want my assistant, I expect a payment."

"What do you want?" I asked, but I already knew. He wanted to humiliate me like I'd done to him.

"Undress and get on your hands and knees."

"Honor-" Tess quickly said. "This isn't necessary."

"Will you come without his blessing?" I asked, removing my beige pea coat. "Then I guess it _is_."

I unbuckled my belt and discarded my dark brown leather pants, black combat boots, and fingerless gloves. I pulled the black tank-top over my head and stood in just my bra and panties. I removed them without emotion, but submitting my body was harder. I briefly considered charging the floor and obliterating this asshole, but resisted.

"Tessa," the pervert said, "Get your toy and use it on her."

Tess left the room and he instructed me to crawl over to him. He said he wanted a better view, and then he complimented my body. I don't know if he was trying to make this better or worse for me. When she came back, she kissed my back and grabbed my breasts. My body immediately responded and I hated myself for it. In a sick way, I _wanted_ this to hurt like the first time I'd been raped. I didn't think I could forgive myself for _enjoying_ this. When she slid the large, thick tool inside my body, a little sigh escaped my lips. I vaguely heard Shaw's obnoxious, deep voice, but I couldn't understand his words. My mind slipped far, far away to the bedroom of a sweet Italian girl with chocolate hair and caramel skin. She liked to hold hands when we made love, and when I came on Shaw's floor, I thought of the night she'd given me her innocence.

.::.

Nate's car and my cash got us as far as Oklahoma before I broke down and called Ethan. I knew he was still at Magneto's holdout in South America. The compound had a single community phone, and the woman who answered wasn't keen on fetching my recipient.

"Your name is Matilda Mercer. When you were eight-years-old, you held down a mutant classmate and spit in her face," I told her. "Now _find_ me Ethan Fong or I'll make sure your _comrades_ know who you _really_ are!"

Ten minutes later, he finally answered.

"Honor?"

"Ethan! Finally! I – how are you?"

"Spare me, 'On, you're probably calling collect."

I smiled and closed my eyes, imaging his face. "I need your help, Ethan. My old man's real sick… He's sick in the head. The X-Men said they'd help, but they didn't. They only wanted to eliminate the threat he presented… Rogue's going after him by herself, and I need to make sure Summers doesn't get to him first."

I thought Ethan would _leap_ at the opportunity to cause some trouble for the X-Men, but he was quiet for a long time.

"You couldn't've called last week?" He finally said. "Things have _changed_. Xavier and Magneto have called a truce. Xavier denounced Summers _ages_ ago, and now he's asked Magneto to take charge of his X-Men after he's passed. He said he could trust no one else with his Dream."

My stomach dropped. "Is that what he's telling you? That's a lie! It would be war for sure! Jesus, that's _exactly_ what Summers needs: another _war_!"

"How do you know? Where you there?"

"I don't really care about the politics," I said. "Magneto isn't part of the X-Men right _now_, so this needn't be an issue for you. Ask to be temporarily discharged, and if he asks for details, tell him a mutant family is being oppressed and requires your assistance."

Silence.

"You're good, 'On… Is Nate part of this?"

I knew this could be a deal breaker. "Yes. I know you don't like that, but I need all the help I can get. And he knows Summers better than anyone."

"How do you know he isn't working for his dad?"

"I don't. That's why I need you to watch my back."

…

We met Ethan at a train station in New Mexico. The others held back, pretending to be loaded down with their luggage. But I dropped my canvas bag and ran to him. He didn't return my hug, but I was still glad to see him. I thanked him for coming and looked him over. He was sweet to the eyes. His black, inky hair was longer now, and tied back at the base of his skull. He was underfed, no doubt about that, but his body was still strong and familiar. His bright violet eyes, which had never dimmed in my memory, were troubled and guarded. I resented his distance: I wanted him to accept me again, and his rejection left me feeling… _unwanted_.

"Life's been hard since you left," I confided in him. "For _both_ of us."

…

_Rogue and Tante Ro started their search in North Carolina, where Remy was last seen. They asked the people he'd be most likely to attract – prostitutes, priests and police officers. Finally, a waitress recalled serving him coffee all night, which he paid for in compliments, and left with a truck driver headed to Georgia. _

"'On?" Nate interrupted me. His voice cut through my thoughts better than the jostling of the train. "Lay off, all right? I know you're worried about him, but I need you to focus on what _we're_ doing."

"How can you tell when I'm Seeing?"

"I'm a telepath, honey. _And_ I'm your friend. We're going to start the conference soon, but I wanted to talk with you about a few things first… Renegade told me how bad you got in Egypt, so I want you to lay off the Vision as much as possible. Trust your _friends_, not your Sight, okay?"

I smiled for him.

"The other thing is…" He struggled to find the words. "…Everyone's looking to me to lead them because that's what we did in school. But this isn't school, and as much as they _look_ to me, they _listen_ to you. We're all here for _you_. I think you should lead the team."

I was in complete shock. "Wow…" I managed. "Tell a girl to keep her eyes shut, and then you go and say a thing like that. I… I don't know what…"

"We don't have to say anything to the others. You just step up and I'll step down."

"Wow… Okay… You ready to start the conference, then?"

He nodded.

For security purposes, the six of us decided not to travel as one, but in two different groups. Nate and I posed as a couple. The other four were more or less themselves: a group of friends with Ethan as chaperon. There were a few reasons for this. One, we'd attract less attention. Two, we'd be harder to contain if someone was waiting for us at the train station. But most importantly, when someone searched the security cameras for evidence of my guilt, my friends wouldn't be seen with me. Since we had _two_ telepaths in our group, physical proximity wasn't required to exchange information. Tess could project her thoughts to relay a quick message, or Nate could actually show images and relay someone else's thoughts to a third (and forth and fifth) party. This was how we would communicate our plan for infiltrating the San Francisco base.

I felt my mind slip as Nate pulled me into his consciousness.

_We six appeared in the school cafeteria at our regular table. No one else existed in the entire world. Nate's mind was so clear that I could hear the echo of my boots and feel the hard, cold plastic beneath my ass. Even the distance from seat to table was accurate._

"_Really? __**Here**__?" complained Ethan. "The most oppressive institution will serve as the breeding grounds for revolution."_

"_It was the first place that came to mind," Nate said. "But if you'd prefer the insects of San Marco-"_

"_This will do," I interrupted. "We haven't got a lot of time, so we need to get started. First: codenames? Does anyone want to keep their school names?"_

"_Sage works," Tess said._

_Uri looked at her sideways. "Really? Maybe I've got my terms confused, but you're not __**working**__ the sage persona anymore. What __**you're**__ working is called sex appeal."_

_Renegade said: "She's makin' up for your __**lack**__, mate."_

"_I'm fine with 'X'," Nate said._

"_How about 'XXX'?" said Uri. "And 'On, you can be 'Lolita'."_

"_Actually," I said, "I was considering 'Gambita'. I don't want Summers to have __**any**__ doubts about who's responsible. And what's with all the sex jokes? Are you lonely?"_

"_Yeah… It ain't easy bein' green…"_

"_I thought we were going dark," my former captain argued._

"_Well," I said, "I'm not planning on using the __**doorbell**__, but I sure as hell plan to show my ass."_

"_Dat's right! Why we need cover names?" my brother asked. "Call me Renegade."_

"_I wanna be Uber-Jew!" Uri grinned, holding his chest out proudly._

_We tried not to laugh and failed – even somber Tess._

"_You are!" René clapped his shoulder. "But we callin' you 'Newt'."_

"_Nah, come on, guys! It's not anti-Semitic if __**I**__ picked it!"_

"_Ethan?" I said. "Are you still 'Terris'?"_

_The room became quiet and serious whenever Ethan was encouraged to contribute something, and he worked to keep up that air of fearful respect. With his arms crossed and unblinking eyes, he addressed me coolly._

"_I think you know I'm not. I go by 'Stryfe' now."_

"_Excellent," I said briskly. "I thought we could play to our strengths, just like we did in mutations control. Stryfe and I will take offense; Newt and Renegade take the flank; Sage will work intell; and X will be our communication link and perimeter security. Immediately afterwards, we all split. Got it? I doubt they'll try and track us all down, but you never know, so stay on your guard. Leave the country, get an alias – do whatever you need to do to avoid getting caught. You won't be safe until my father's back to himself… At least, it won't be safe for me."_

.::.

_A bank robbery was the only trace he left in Atlanta. He hadn't gotten caught by the cameras, but those who knew him smelled his distinct handiwork. It was like he didn't __**care **__if he left a trail. Three hundred thousand dollars would get him just about anywhere, and Rogue's chances of tracking him dwindled even further. Eventually, a marked bill turned up in Mobile, Alabama. The woman couldn't remember which gas station she'd gotten it from, but Rogue drained her memory and found it was a Flying J's, located along the interstate. The clerk remembered a man (he never saw the man's eyes) getting a canister of petroleum for a stranded motorist. As far as he could tell, the man was traveling with a woman… Probably westbound, but he couldn't be sure. Rogue brushed his hand and – without his knowledge – peaked at the memory herself. Yes, it was definitely him! Soaking wet, pale and timid as a beaten kitten, but he was alive and well. Rogue only caught the slightest glimpse of the woman. She was __**sure**__ she knew her, but from where?_

Tess walked through my mental image of Rogue and shattered my vision. The astral-image intruder wasn't entirely unpleasant, but she was entirely unwelcome. Her hair was still curled (I suppose that's how she liked it now), but otherwise she didn't resemble the woman she'd become around Shaw. She wore a black business suit with flat shoes and a silk blouse, which made me more comfortable than thongs and corsets. But she wasn't the love of my life anymore, and she always arrived _uninvited_ to complicate things.

"Nate asked you to trust your friends," she said. "You should try it some time."

"_You_ should try _calling_," I said.

She didn't smile like others might in an attempt to please me. That just wasn't her. Instead, she approached me without fear and spoke calmly.

"I don't _want_ to distract you, but I _am_ a distraction. So if you feel comfortable with it, I'd like to address some unresolved issues between us. There was so much left unsaid…"

"You're a super genius, all right," I rolled my eyes.

We were safely hidden inside my mind. If I'd wanted to shut her out, I had that ability, but I chose not to exercise it.

"Cyclops _knew_, 'On," she said. "He knew all along."

I felt faint.

Could one _faint_ on the astral plane?

"I don't know why he let us carry on so long," she continued, "I suppose he didn't have _grounds_ to attack Mutant Freaks until we sold it. He asked me to turn over evidence of your collaboration or he'd have me deported. I refused, obviously, so he could never _prove_ your involvement." She hesitated. "That's why I am in Shaw's debt now. He protects me. That is also why I had to tamper with your memories and emotions. You came very close to figuring everything out, and I knew it was just a matter of time before you did something _reckless_."

I wanted to believe her, but my heart couldn't trust her.

"My family could've helped you," I said. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"At first, I thought I could handle the situation myself. I thought you and I could manipulate Summers out of the picture. Then you _betrayed_ me, and I didn't _trust_ you." After a moment of hostile silence, she continued. "I turned to Shaw because I wanted to hurt you. Eventually, I realized how foolish I'd been, but it was too late to take it all back. There was too much damage done, and I thought I would just have to live with it. I thought I _could_. But even geniuses can be mistaken."

She was dangerously clever, cold and meticulous in her schemes. I believed her, but that didn't imply trust. She had a _reason_ for telling me this.

"So what do you want?" I asked.

She smiled sadly. "What I _want_ can never be, and confessing my hopes to you will only further complicate things. I'm only telling you this so you know my hatred for Scott Summers hasn't diminished. If you see an opening to strike, I will always assist you. And if I see one myself, I will _always_ strike."

"It's great to be the hammer, but it isn't always wise," I said vaguely. "Xavier is dying… Once he is dead, the vultures will fly from the sky, swim out of the sea, and crawl across the desert for the pickings. Just wait, and pick the winning the team."

"But if it's Summers?"

"He _still_ loses…" I picked at the lent on my leather pants. "There are an _infinite_ number of possible outcomes, but _one_ thing is _fixed_. And no matter how _anyone_ reacts, he still _loses_. Just a matter of time. My favorite result is Tante Ro taking his position as field commander. She's got a lover in Wakanda, so I don't think that's likely. But you never know."

"If Storm led the X-Men, I wouldn't have to work for Shaw anymore… Could we make it happen?"

"Babe, we could do _anything_."

.::.

"_Belle_! What in tarnation are you doin' at home?" Rogue bellowed into the phone.

"I ain't. I just had de number re-directed."

"That's a damn lie! Ah called your house in New Orleans, and Marie said you were there but she wouldn't disturb you. Now, ya'll need to shape up. Ah married a first-class bull-shiter, and ya'll don't come close!"

"_D'accord_," Belle admitted. "But Remy and Lucas built dis house t' be a fortress! Ain't nowhere safer, and dere ain't nowhere else we gonna go."

"Momma?" a small voice piped in the background.

"Is that Ollie?" said Rogue. "Can Ah talk to him?"

"Hiya, Momma."

"Hey, sugah. Oh, it's so good to hear your voice. Ah miss you so much."

"Is Sissy wit' you?"

"Yeah, baby. I'm here wit' Sissy and René and Tante Ro… And as soon as we get your Papa, we're comin' back home. Are you being good for Miss Belle? Helping her with your sister and Hero?"

"I try," he sighed seriously. "But I get a spankin' every day."

"_Every day_? Olivier Jean-Luc! That will _not_ do!"

"I _try_ to be a good boy… But me Papa's the devil, and I can't help myself!"

Rogue laughed. "Son! _Please_ behave for Miss Belle! Ah'd hate to come home and find she beat you to death."

"When are you comin' home, Momma?"

"Ah don't know, baby, but I'm workin' as fast as Ah can. Give your sister extra kisses for me, won't you? And do what Miss Belle tells you to do! Ah love you, son."

There was a pause and some movement. Then Belle's voice returned: "He kissed de phone…"

"You need t' be more understandin' with him," Rogue snapped. "He's a little boy and he's gonna act that way!"

"De only reason he acts like a monkey is 'cause-"

"A _what_?"

"-you let 'm. Ain't gonna be no monkeys in my house!"

Clear across the country, the conversation was being monitored by Emma Frost-Summers via Cerebra. The LeBeaus didn't know anything, which put a cramp in her plans. _She_ didn't know where he was, either, and had hoped to steal some information. Certainly, with her resources, she could reach him before his family. The man was either _very_ good at hiding or didn't exist anymore.

.::.

At the Nevada train station, we split up again. Tess took a bus into California; Nate hitch-hiked across the state line. My dear brother was already working on an escape plan for us, and Ethan and I stole a car for transportation. There was so much at stake, and I was ready to _attack_ this thing. I wanted to act and move: sitting and waiting was intolerable. I wanted to know the outcome, but so much relied on others that even _I_ couldn't say for certain what would happen. In hindsight, I _knew_ some of the sacrifices we'd have to make, but beforehand, I refused to acknowledge it.

Ethan and I didn't talk much during our ride together. He was trying to intimidate me with his silence and body language, but I'd endured too much to be threatened by a nineteen-year-old punk who took orders from a Nazi. Thanks to my powers, I was able to time our arrival perfectly. I told him which roads to take, how fast to drive, and when we should stop for meals or piss breaks. The night of our attack, we broke into an empty motel room and made our final preparations. I changed into my Thieves' armor, which is more flexible and light-weight than the Assassins' version. The material was black, of course, and made from a special latex/aluminum combination called odatur. There was extra protection at the knees and elbows, which I chose to color pink after my father. The pants disappeared into my regular boots, and the sleeves lapsed over my fingerless gloves. The neck line extended to my jaw, and if I were smart, I would've tied my hair back. But I left it down because I liked the look. My hair was past my shoulders now, and it was thicker and curlier than it had been before I'd been robbed of it. I loved being able to run my fingers through it; I loved the way it felt on my face and neck. I would never cut it again. My chest plate was custom – all uniforms were – but mine was embarrassingly unique. Apparently, there wasn't a mold _large_ enough for my breasts, so the plate didn't cover them. The stiff, pink plate gripped my rib cage, protected my back and wrapped over my shoulders. As a result, my breasts appeared even larger. When Ethan saw me, I caught a light in his eyes. He wore a custom uniform, too. His was one piece, covering everything from his collar down. The material was a metallic winter blue. It held to his body like a prison, gripping his bulky arms, rib bones and bony hips. He'd transformed bits of cotton material into steel, and then fashioned the raw material into an armor plate that protected his chest and shoulders. He wore a piece of metal around his skull, too, but it was too sleek and stylized to have been his creation. It didn't cover his entire head: just the soft temples above his jaw, and wrapped around the back of his head. Magneto had given it to him to protect against telepathic interference. Clever. As long as I could relay Nate's messages to him, anyway. Otherwise, he was screwed.

"Ready to lead the troops?" he asked.

"Thank you for doing this, Ethan… It doesn't really _matter_ what happens tonight. The fact that you're here is already our victory. If _we_ can put aside our differences to unite against Summers than _anyone_ can."

"Don't go _noble_ on me, LeBeau. I just came to kick some self-righteous ass."

.::.

"It's him, Scott!" Emma cried. "I'm sure of it!"

"Where?"

"Cambodia."

"Did you get a visual?"

"No, but his energy pattern is unmistakable."

"Could it be Honor?"

"For godssake, lover," she rolled her eyes, "Give me _some_ credit."

_*Kitty! Tuck in your teddy bear and grab your suitcase. We're leaving.*_

We watched the jet leave with satisfaction.

_*Well played, honey,*_ Nate said.

_*Remy LeBeau,*_ I thought in my father's tone. _*At your service!*_

They laughed, but I knew they were unnerved at how well I copied him. I found it creepy, too. It was also eerie that Nate could transfer my energy climax so far away. He hadn't actually transferred the power at all, only its _image_. So had he only fooled Emma? Or had he actually moved the pattern, fooling anyone else looking for my father? (Hurt the head to consider…) With the hounds gone, we infiltrated the San Francisco Headquarters. It's a building like any other, but only the offices exist above ground. Below the surface, the true meat of the operation exists. Ethan, Uri, René and I got inside the building with a simple punch-code. Nate and Tess remained outside the building, serving as our look-outs and communication units. While the two telepaths could converse, they didn't until it was necessary. Instead, they focused on their own tasks. We would need both speed and efficiency to be successful. The visible part of the Headquarters was acceptably impressive, but anyone who _really_ knew the X-Men knew this was just the cover. The four of us on offense went to the storage closet, as Nate instructed. With Uri, it was an especially tight fit. (He groaned: "_Great_. I get to be the fat ass that suffocates us.") How stupid we must've looked – all four of us crammed into the tiny closet.

"Alright, X!" I said. "What's up?"

_*Give me a minute…*_

We exchanged uncomfortably glances. My breasts were pressed up against my brother, whose hands were too close to Uri's crotch, who in turn had Ethan pressed against the wall.

Ethan growled: "If _any_ of you mother fuckers breaks winds, I swear to _god_ I will cut you!"

The three of us giggled like a group of school girls.

"Ever farted in these uniforms?" Uri asked.

"Yeah," said Renegade, "I like it. Warms your ass and has a nice _rippling_ effect. It's nice, I ain't gonna lie."

Two heartbeats later, the back wall opened up to a long, metallic staircase. _Now_ we were in business! Tess was our security expert, but this particular access didn't require a computer hack. Nate said the original entrance could only be accessed by brainwave patterns. He would have to imitate both Mr. _and_ Mrs. Summers in order to override the extra, unauthorized personal.

_*Stryfe, Gambita,*_ Tess's mental voice said, _*Down three flights, take the west wing all the way to the end. It should intercept with another hallway. Let me know when you've reached it.*_

The four of us descended the staircase, and at the first floor, we split into two different directions. Renegade and I gave each other a brief nod, but otherwise took no time to bid farewell. I wondered if we'd ever see each other again, and felt a pang of regret for not resolving our differences. But I knew he'd make it home alive... Nate directed my brother and Newt to Summers' personal office, where he kept tabs on my family. After disturbing too much to escape unnoticed, the two of them finally located their target.

"Yeah, it's here, mate," Uri said quietly.

Uri and Renegade quickly read the files they were stealing for me. What they learned was a detailed description of my father's most intimate life. Summers kept records on where my father traveled and how long he was gone. He had information on _all_ my father's contacts – with pictures if he could get them. He even had police reports that possibly applied to my father. I suppose these things alone wouldn't have upset me. I could forgive Summers for merely doing his job. But he'd gone much further. He had Papa's medical files, including those from my stay at Muir Island and _theories_ Dr. McCoy had concerning Papa's health. Dr. McCoy had speculated (and was correct) that Papa had a history of cocaine abuse and had been sexually abused. Ms. Frost-Summers had forfeited transcriptions of Papa and Rogue's sex therapy sessions. Summers had no _right_ to know these things! Also in the files, he had a written schedule of my family's habits: date nights, school schedules, and traveling expenses. Every abnormal action was highlighted. Recently, my father had been behaving _very_ oddly. Had Summers done anything? No; he just _recorded_ it. Naturally, he had information on Momma and the kiddies, too. He knew almost _nothing_ about René, which was a relief, and Rogue and I had our own files.

"Think we should take 'm all?" René asked.

"With a smokin' hot wife like Ms. Frost, you wouldn't think a man would have time to obsess over another man!" Uri said.

"Maybe Scotty's gay, too."

"Don't get my hopes up… _Hello!"_ Uri opened the final file in my family's case.

Unbeknownst to my friends, Professor Xavier had long ago established what he called "the Xavier protocols": a manual to killing any and all of his disciples. He'd taken this task around the time he lost his mind and tried to _test_ his theories. Shortly afterwards, the manual was assumed destroyed. René and Uri found something similar - the Summers procedures: instructions on eliminating my father, mother, brothers, sisters and myself. He had others listed with their families, too. Mostly, he had ideas for slaughtering his own employees, but in cases of large threats (such as the Guthries), allies were also included. However, Renegade and Newt left those untouched. Their first priority was obtaining enemy intelligence on my kin, and that's what they focused on. Uri lay open the thick file, and held a small flash light to the words so that they could both read it.

_**Summary:**__ The LeBeaus greatest strength is their unity and connections. Their greatest weakness is paranoia: particularly in situations beyond their control. _

_**Procedure: **__Should the need arise to destroy the unit, begin with isolating them from their outside connections. Given their history of secrecy and distrust of outsiders, this should not prove difficult. Place pressure at the strongest/weakest point of the structure: REMY. Killing him will only strengthen the family. He must be vilified in order to divide them. Once he's broken, the others will scatter. Most likely, ROGUE will take her children West: probably to __**Valle Soleada, California**__. BELLA DONNA will likely return with her children to __**New Orleans. **__Pursue ROGUE next: she poses the greater threat. Considering ROGUE currently possesses the super-human strength of MS. MARVEL, a direct assault is impractical. A telepathic assault would be more effective: the telepath need only unlock one of the self-destructive personalities locked inside ROGUE'S psyche, such as MS. MARVEL. Her demise will attract HONOR (a.k.a. Rita Sanchez, a.k.a. "Pochica"), who will present herself as a target. HONOR is extremely skilled in physical combat, but her weakness is in precognitive powers. During a vision, she is completely vulnerable and extremely weak for some time afterwards. This is the time to strike. She is more dangerous than her mother, but BELLA DONNA cannot learn of her daughter's death. If she discovers her child's loss, she will alert the New Orleans Guild and create a new challenge.____BELLA DONNA is skilled in combat and weaponry, but can be eliminated by common means. However, poison would rouse least suspicion, and incriminate the Guild. Only after the demise of HONOR, BELLA DONNA and ROGUE, should REMY be terminated. The Xavier Protocols cites REMY'S kinetic powers as the most potent weapon to use against him. Given the time and resources required by the situation, diplomacy will much more preferable. Secrecy is virtually impossible when eliminating such a large group – unless they could be killed in an accident, but in that case, one must consider the collateral damage and the likelihood that ROGUE would survive. _

_Probable adversaries seeking revenge: Mystique, Ororo "Storm" Munroe, Logan "Wolverine" Howlett, Lucas "Bishop" Bishop (deceased?), Nathan "X" Summers, Tessa "Sage" McNeil...___

_Possible adversaries: Henry "Beast" McCoy, Uriah Kobowski, Johnny Sanchez, Pransu Patel, Jean-Luc LeBeau…_

René swallowed hard: his mouth suddenly dry.

"'On wanted me to use dese to make Summers look bad… T'ink he does bad all by himself."

…

Tess directed Ethan and me to the lowest depths of the base. Our objective was to hinder Summers and Frost in their quest to find my father. We would accomplish this by destroying Cerebra, leaving evidence of our handiwork and blaze a trail in our wake. Cerebra is the heart of Summers' operations, and like any heart, there are many protective layers. The "skin" was a security clearance of finger prints, retinal scans, and an alpha-numeric code. Ethan and I couldn't pass this, but Tess gave us a device which could trick the machine into _thinking_ we'd passed. The "muscle" was a hallway that scanned our skeletal systems and brain patterns. It was thirteen steps long – a bad omen – and the lights changed from white to red at the detection of movement. If the machine didn't recognize us, Cerebra would lock up. Luckily, Tess deceived the technology into compliance, but it recorded each and every entry for future review. She couldn't retrieve our footprints. That information was sent to a third location and the path was untraceable. No matter, really. Summers would discover us sooner or later, anyway. The objective was to keep him from finding us until we were _gone_. Finally, the "bone" was an ordinary room without windows or furniture. The entire room: floor, walls, ceiling and doors was made of the same smooth, light metal that made me feel exposed. There were no computers or electric passes, only two doors, each facing the other. One door – the entrance – was rectangular and normal in size. The other, which led to Cerebra, was round and nine feet in diameter. It reminded me of bank vault doors. Opening this last door required no pass codes or manipulating. It didn't even have a door knob. All it possessed was an artificial intelligence, which immediately recognized us as impostures.

'_Intruder alert. Intruder alert.'_

"Sage!" I cried. "A little help?"

_*I'm sorry, 'On,*_ her voice answered in my mind. _*They've changed the sequence.*_

"You can't decrypt it!"

_*I believe I can. But the warning has already been called. Summers is probably on his way back. You need to abort the mission.*_

"No, she can't," Emma said.

I was so startled by her presence that I almost fell over. She stood not eight feet away, and I'd been _oblivious_ until she spoke. That shouldn't have come as a surprise. This was _her_ fortress; if there was an advantage, she had it. She would say she'd known about our plan all along and sent the others away to lure us in, but that was a lie. Cyclops shouted and threatened and pleaded tears with her to stay put. They both thought the Headquarters was secure, and he didn't want her endangering herself and their unborn child.

_*Gambita! Is that the White Queen?*_

Emma crossed her arms – a gesture both arrogant and meant to protect the child inside her – and spoke coldly. "You were allowed to get this far to incriminate yourself, but we've seen enough. Cerebra is locked down. You'll never get inside, so stop wasting your time. Come upstairs so we can negotiate the terms of your release. _If_ you're released. Personally, I'd fake your deaths and lock you away in the basement. You think anyone will miss you? Well, maybe you, _Gambita_ - but Stryfe? Dust in the wind."

"You're such a liar!" I laughed.

"Like it _matters_."

Her mind gripped me like a marionette lifting its puppet. Outside my control, my body rounded on Ethan and launched a kinetic charge through the floor. The liquid bomb tore up the sleek metal ground like a giant snake and exploded against the impregnable door of Cerebra. He only missed it by leaping out of the way. He landed against the wall, which immediately transformed. Pieces of metal morphed into wood, others into crystal or ice, while others remained untouched. I only had time to wonder at his purpose when bits and pieces of bolts, screws, and electric wire began launching from their places. It was like random firing of a BB gun. A piece of debris struck Emma's bare arm, causing her to back away and begin to consider retreat. She was bleeding heavily, and if something that powerful should strike her abdomen-

Ethan removed his anti-telepathy crown and placed it on my head. Without hesitation, I launched an underground beam towards her. I only meant to distract her until Ethan could regain his attack, but something horrible happened. He had some residual powers left in the floor, and my beam pushed it towards Emma. The two energies – terra-transformation and matter-into-energy – merged together. Hypothetically, the two energies _should've_ conflicted and exploded at impact, but it didn't work out that way. The hybrid beam reached its target and transformed Emma into a diamond statue. Just like Candra and Apocalypse before her, her diamond-state was a perfect imitation: right down to the French manicured nails and the creases in her pants.

Ethan and I looked at each other.

He said: "What. The. _Fuck_."

His ability to transform a natural property into another natural property did not extend to organic matter. I had turned people into stone before, but I'd had the help of the Momentary Princess. And those two had been so altered from their original state that they could _hardly_ be called natural. Somehow, Ethan and I could merge our mutant abilities to become greater than ourselves. This phenomenon was only seen in mutant twins – like Mr. Baubier and his sister. But we had no time to consider what this meant for us. No one would believe what had happened here – not even if we managed to repeat the process. It was simply too perfect: we walk into a room with Emma, there's a confrontation, and she gets turned to diamond. I never wanted to hurt her. I didn't want anyone to get hurt. This had gone too far.

"Get out," I snarled at Ethan, facing Cerebra's bolted door.

"Too late for that," he said. He paused, looked annoyed, and said, "Shut the fuck up, Sage. You're the telepath! _You_ tell _me_ what's going on."

I couldn't hear her because I was still wearing his anti-telepathy helmet. I wasn't sure I _wanted_ to hear what she had to say, anyway. She might try to dissuade me again.

"Stryfe," I said, "I was raised to give my life for the mission. But this is _my_ family, not yours, and I can't ask you for the same."

"I'll finish the job. So if you're done with your tirade, _Gambita_, I can disturb the ground beneath us to open that door. You need to charge this room and the hallway before. Give me thirty seconds, if you can. When I get that door open, we'll need to move immediately, got it?"

I nodded and complied, hoping he could open that door. If not, we might blow up ourselves on the doorstep of our enemy. The floor shook and rumbled. Creating an earthquake isn't easy, and controlling the vibrations to _one doorway_ is even more difficult. Charging the walls was more of a challenge than I expected. Different materials required different levels of concentration, and the hallway looked like a quilt. I also had Ms. Frost to consider. I didn't _want_ to blow her up, but that's what I would do. Maybe if I did a good enough job of it, all evidence of her would vanish. While I was trying to compensate and apply the correct amount of pressure to time the detonation, the floor beneath my feet shook and growled. The thick, metal door opened with a loud _snap!_ I ran from the glowing hallway into the charged security room, and Ethan and I leapt through the shattered doorway. Another door (the back-up door) slammed shut behind us, and the sound echoed through the large, circular room.

'_Warning,'_ the room said. _'Cerebra is only intended for telepathic assistance. Non-telepathic use is lethal.'_

Finally! We'd reached the motherboard! Cerebra is a single room, three stories high and completely spherical. The only reachable territory is a long, rail-less platform which reaches out to the middle of the sphere. The walls are made of a special metal with an indigo tint, but upon activation, lend themselves to revealing images of whomever the operator is searching for.

'_Warning. Cerebra is only intended for telepathic assistance. Non-telepathic use is lethal.'_

I whistled 'Dixie' while sliding down the enormous domed walls to the bottom of the sphere. Ethan came behind me, sliding bodily into my legs and knocking us both down. We laughed and gathered ourselves, holding each other's arms for lack of stability. He looked at the platform: high above our heads.

"You got a plan for getting back up?" he asked.

"No. We can't leave the way we came."

We looked at each other with bravado.

"Anything I can do to help?" he asked. "It looks like metal, so I could probably transform it to wood or crystal if it would help."

"The compound doesn't matter… I can charge anything, even organic matter. I could charge you, if you like. It might be less painful than being inside a bomb."

"You keep your sticky fingers to yourself, Cajun."

I crawled up the walls as much as I could, and with my palms pressed against the dome, sent the charge up towards the summit. I was beginning to weaken, and it took a little longer than usual. Too bad Tess wasn't here to give me a boost. The metal began to glow neon blue, and the light slowly engulfed the entire dome. As the charge neared us, we could feel the heat and energy crackling. Although my hands were burned, I forced myself to continue the charge. Very soon, I would never feel pain again. That thought brought pleasure from pain. Very soon, I would never be tired again... At last, the entire room glowed, and I released the wall from my touch.

"How long?" Ethan asked, licking the sweat from his top lip.

"Not long."

He gripped me close to him and quickly said, "I wanna tell you something... I'm not _real_, 'On, I'm just a copy… When you and Nate were held on the moon, one of the mutants _cloned_ Nate. He gave me false memories and sent me out. When Nate got the Legacy Virus, the creep wanted to chop me up for parts. He said he made me as a spare. Nothing about me is genuine." He was trembling.

"E, you're not a copy," I argued, "You and Nate are two completely different people! You have different faces, personalities, powers-"

"He spliced Nate's DNA. With _yours_."

I never got the chance to process what he said or respond. Outside Cerebra, we heard the scanning hallway detonate. Then the self-aware room exploded. I knew we had only seconds left. Everyone dies – it's a part of life. But at least my death would count for something, and hopefully my life had, too. There was peace and quiet, and Ethan and I tucked our faces into each other's necks. He was bulky and smelled like cedar. Although my mind touched on all the people I loved – my parents, Tess, Jean-Luc – I would not have traded these last precious moments to share with anyone else. Above us, the ceiling exploded, and the energy rippled down, blowing out bolts and plates like confetti at Mardi Gras. Death raced towards us: jaws opened and teeth visible.

But we were snatched from the Reaper's hands in a puff of blue smoke.

.::.

There was an explosion so powerful that it shook the entire building. A grumbling moment later, the building collapsed on itself. Renegade and Newt barely got out in time and scrambled to the checkpoint, where Sage and X were shouting and shoving each other.

"You said the building was clear!" Sage yelled, her white face flushed.

"_You_ were supposed to be _watching_ them!" X hollered back.

"Well," she lifted her chin as tears gathered in her blue eyes. "Emma was the superior _mind_, but not the superior _fighter_!"

No one spoke for a long time. Finally, Nate shattered the spell that had been cast by her insinuation. "She was caught in the explosion?"

"No," Tess smiled vengefully as the tears spilled out. "She was _dead_ before that. Now run back to _daddy_ and tell him about it! Tell him how your _gamble_ cost him!"

They all heard the Blackbird fly overhead and land near the demolished building, which was almost within sight. They should've fled in four different directions, as previously instructed, but no one flinched. Finally, Tess said: "We need to move."

"Wait!" Renegade called, "What about m' sister?"

"Tell him, Nathan," she replied. "Tell them how you sent her to the slaughter! I'm sorry, Renegade, but 'On and Ethan never made it out. Now get out of here. Don't let our _beloved_ _captain_ know where you're going. And if it's the last thing you do, get the procedure to Storm. She's the last hope _any_ of us have."

Tess turned and fled to shadows. Renegade and Uri had a ride nearby waiting to smuggle them into Mexico, but before they left, they watched Nate run towards the Blackbird.

.::.

_Bamf!_

I barely had time to draw breath before Mr. Wagner – Nightcrawler – pulled away from my arms. He'd teleported Ethan and me away from the building, although I didn't know where I was beyond that.

"You're supposed to be _dead!"_ I blurted.

"I'm sorry, _liebchen_, there's no time to explain-"

"We _mourned_ for you!" I shouted. "They scattered your ashes in Romania! How _could_ you?"

He grabbed my neck and kissed my forehead. "I am sorry for the pain I've caused you. All vill be revealed in time – in this life or the next. Now run, little one, and forget you ever saw my face."

_Bamf!_

.::.

_Diamonds_.

The word reverberated in his mind.

_Diamonds_.

That's all that was left of this incredible creature who'd given life to his daughter, created a corporate empire and ruled by his side. A pile of _diamonds_. Hundreds of thousands of them – glittering dust, clear slivers, chunks of stone. The innumerable stones were laid out methodically on an examination table, like dinosaur fossils. Dr. Kavita Rao had been professional and thorough in her efforts, even lending Scott the use of her private laboratory. But beyond keeping all the pieces together (Kitty actually collected them), Dr. Rao hadn't made much progress. Worst of all, no one could even tell him if she were dead or alive.

"I'm sorry, Scott," said Dr. Rao, "There's nothing I can do. There have been cases of mutants accidentally transforming their own matter. Some of them were even damaged before returning to their original state. But in a case this severe, the likelihood seems… very slim."

He said nothing, so she left him alone in the room. Maybe he wanted to cry, she really didn't know. Nor did she care. The man deserved to be _shot_. What was he thinking? Allowing Emma to place herself in such clear and present danger! She should've been at home, raising her child. Sure, there were some unpredictable variables... One, Cerebra had been designed to counter destructive forces, so how it had been annihilated so _completely_ was a mystery. Perhaps Emma thought the counter measures would succeed in the end, and there was no true danger. Certainly, she thought herself quicker and stronger than any danger. But she should have been as far removed from the _X-Men_ and their dealings as possible! Why was she left to guard the building alone? Why did she confront the intruders before her back-up arrived? Her pride was always destined to be her downfall. But what was Scott's excuse? It was very clear to everyone, including Dr. Rao, that Emma's biggest motivation for staying on the team was her fear of losing Scott. Her need for validation came before her reputation, her children, and her own health. Apparently, her husband felt the same way.

Kavita mentally scolded herself and rinsed her face with a handful of cool water. Emma was a good mother, and Scott was a very devoted husband. But they were also power-hungry over-achievers. They encouraged each other in all the worst ways, so that neither rested or relaxed or cherished their very short and precious lives. That didn't make them bad people, but it was a reckless way to live.

.::.

Stryfe waited impatiently in the airport terminal. He would only sit for a few moments, and then he was on his feet again: bouncing on his toes, pacing, flexing his fingers and checking his pants pockets. Ethan Fong died in the explosion, and Stryfe was eager to move on with his life. He didn't want his old connections to know he was still alive. He was ready to create a new life. But Honor asked him for a favor, promising glory in return. Magneto would be pleased, she assured him. _She_ would be pleased. And that cursed woman had a charm about her… He simply couldn't refuse her. Finally, Rogue and Storm entered the terminal. They looked as beautiful and posed as ever, but he knew they carried their homes in black luggage bags. Rogue had a large cash collection on her because she didn't want Summers tracking her movements. Stryfe thought with sick pleasure how unsightly and destitute the jungle would make them. Suppressing his own disgust, he approached and startled them.

"Ethan? My Gawd-"

"Ethan Fong is dead," he told them. "I am called Stryfe."

"Are you the one who sent us the telegram?" Storm asked calmly.

"Honor asked me to escort you to San Marco. I can't _force_ you, but she did ask me to stress the _uselessness_ of your other resources. Come on, that's our plane." Without waiting, he picked up his own bag and headed for the security clearance preceding every loading dock.

Storm pursed her lips and asked quietly, "Why did Honor not suggest this before?"

"Maybe it's the timin'," Rogue answered off-handedly. She followed him, but when Storm didn't follow, she paused. "What's the matter, sugah? You think he's not bein' sincere?"

"There is only one person in San Marco who can help us. _Magneto_. He has long been a throne in our side, and I am not keen to owe _him_ any favors. With Charles Xavier dying and Cyclops ousted from his own school – you must understand the implications of turning to Magneto for help. Not to mention your history with him."

"It's just that, 'Ro. _History_. If you can't follow me, Ah understand. And thanks for stickin' with me this long. But if he's got a way to find Remy, Ah've gotta try." Then she joined Ethan and a few others in the security line.

The frown lines around Storm's mouth deepened, but she followed Rogue.

The three of them traveled in strained silence from an airport in Phoenix to one in San Marco. Once in South America, they took a bus to the jungle. When the paved road vanished, they were left to their own feet. Two miles from Magneto's base, they were stopped by trigger-happy security guards. Any other day, Storm would've been the one to defuse the situation – the sensible one – but not after twenty hours in confined quarters. A loud thunder clap and two strong bolts of lightning heralded the "peaceful" arrival of two X-Men. The guards let them pass, but they were just the hounds outside the gates of hell. Inside, hundreds of mutant rebels poured from their tents and shanties to catch a glimpse. Their eyes were wild, and it was alarming to see how many of them had fashioned lethal weapons to work with their mutant powers. The camp was very organized: everyone seemed to have and know their job, and they were working diligently, although Magneto couldn't have been paying them all. But for all their dedication, tension crackled heavy in the air. Was it the new arrivals that bothered them? Or was this toxic atmosphere common? Ethan signed in at his post and finally addressed his companions.

"Alright, tour's over. By now, he knows you're here. Since he hasn't come to greet you, you're not welcome. I'll show you back to the road."

"Like hell!" Rogue said. "Where is he?"

"Pick up your things, you don't have a choice."

"Ah didn't come all this way just to go home empty-handed! Now where is he?"

When no one answered, Rogue scanned the scattered crowd for the highest ranked person. In a group like this, the most knowledgeable individual was the most isolated one. Most of the worker bees were content with their place, and would not risk spilling a secret to the one with the power to turn it against them. Even laborers were smart enough to know how powerful people acquired and kept their power. Here, that man was a burly white man with strawberry-blond hair and a heavy gruff on his chin. He worked behind a desk, but came out to witness the commotion. His eyes were piercing and impatient, and did not weaken when Rogue approached him. He had no idea what she was capable of doing. She was reaching for his bare arm when she was interrupted.

"Would Xavier approve of that?"

"_Magnus._"

.::.

Kitty phased through the laboratory wall into Emma's room. Immediately afterward, she regretted the action – but it was a reflex. She _should've_ knocked. But some things can't be undone, and her punishment for this infraction was watching Scott awkwardly try to cover his face. She wanted so badly to tell him that Emma and the baby would be alright, but she couldn't know that. She'd lost enough friends to know that false hopes were bitterly received and obviously false to everyone drinking. She wanted to hold him and tell him she would stay with him… or leave him alone… whatever he needed. But Scott was too proud to accept her pity. So instead of comforting him, she waited until he turned toward her before speaking, all the while hating every fiber of her rude being. Clutching the files in her hands, she tried to ignore the smeared tears on his flushed face.

"It's definitely Honor and Ethan who destroyed Cerebra," she said, "We've got them going in, but not coming out."

"Any…" he cleared his throat and continued, "…Remains?"

"No. No, nothing. Wolverine combed the debris himself. But in an explosion like that, there _wouldn't_ be anything to – anything left."

"I'll contact Bella Donna… Inform her about the situation."

"Scott," she suddenly blurted, "I think you should take a break. Emma needs you. Let someone else take the reins for a while."

He stood to face her with his single, unblinking red eye. The man in the chair was gone. Now he was the man in charge, and he spoke to Kitty as if she were fourteen-years-old again. "I know what needs to be done, thank you, Kitty. Hank's on his way. His expertise will better suit Emma than anything I can do. He's optimistic about her condition, as usual. If anything changes, I'll expect a phone call. I can't help her. What _I'm_ good at is breaking terrible news, so excuse me."

"_Scott!"_

He was already gone.

.::.

Magneto was ever the hardened battle commander that Storm remembered. At first, he thought the X-Men pair spies who'd come to gather information about his latest army. In order to convince him otherwise, Rogue was forced to recant her entire life for the last five years: Gambit's daughter, Honor, came to live with him, and shortly thereafter, Rogue and Gambit married and had twin children. When Honor's mutant powers manifested, she had some psychic abilities. She was kidnapped and tortured by people who wanted to control her powers, and when Gambit arrived, the stress sent his powers to new levels. He destroyed much of the building and staff before escaping, and _after_ he and Honor were safely outside, he detonated the entire building with his powers. This was a new ability for him. Normally, he required physical contact to ignite an object, but this time, he transmitted the energy through his will. The effort left him nearly dead, and his father brought the Elixir of Longevity to revive him. The Elixir grants extended life – near immortality – but like all good things, there is a risk. Gambit fell to the Elixir's side effects of madness. After attacking his own daughter, he fled the house and had been on the run ever since. He didn't seem to be reigning death and mayhem, but he was simply too powerful to leave alone. The X-Men had promised to help Rogue bring him home and make him well again. Gambit defeated the madness himself – at least temporarily – and that's when Emma double-crossed her. She attempted to cripple his mind: she wanted to lock him away inside himself. Luckily, he escaped, but now Rogue was without the aid of the X-Men in her quest.

After listening to her tale, Magneto dismissed her rather curtly. He offered food and hospitality for Rogue and Storm's effort, but said no more on the matter. After a poor meal and a hearty rest, Storm awoke and saw a transformation in the Master of Magnetism. He swept into the tent where the X-Men briefly lodged and inquired after their health and spirits. Then he escorted them to his personal tent, where he offered brandy in crystal glasses and played relaxing music. Storm refused the drink. She didn't trust him, and saw no need to impair herself. However, Rogue accepted, and the two of them chatted easily. Storm thought the man half-mad, but at least he appeared willing to help them. Was Rogue using the art of conversation to her advantage? Or was she flirting with danger?

"You are in luck, my dears," he finally relented. "I am both willing and able to assist you. At my base in Genosha is a machine not limited by the same restrictions as Cerebra. The problem – or rather, _your_ problem – with Xavier's hunting device is that it is fundamentally designed to search in limited areas. This is a logical prerequisite when considering Xavier's telepathic capabilities. Good Lord, can you imagine all the world's voices running through your mind at once? Maybe he is not so eager to live as a god, after all... But I digress! Yes, Cerebra was designed to search through every mind in a limited area in order to give Charles an idea for mutant proximity and population. However, my device, I.R.I.S., was designed to locate one mind among millions. Billions, even."

Rogue gripped her knees and leaned forward. "Will you take us there? And use it to find Remy?"

"I had the shuttle readied this morning. We can board whenever you're ready."

_Marvelous_, thought Storm, _**Another**__ aircraft_.

The mission required Magneto's presence away from his army and camp. Storm thought he might've been unwilling to leave, but if he had any reservations, he didn't voice them to her. His shuttle was slower, smaller, and less impressive than the Blackbird, but it got them overseas undetected. Traveling in this inferior vessel was the Master of Magnetism, the X-Men seeking his aid, and Stryfe, who'd brought them together. Uncomfortable as the journey was, they arrived in Genosha in record time. The island nation had built up remarkably since it's devastation by Sentinels some years ago. Storm hadn't visited since the reconstruction, but Xavier's influence (and Magneto's) was clear to her eyes.

"I am sorry I cannot invite you to visit all of our accomplishments," he told Storm and Rogue, "But I detect a sense of urgency in your mission. I, too, am pressed for time. Shall we proceed to my base?"

"Don'tchya wanna blindfold us first?" Rogue asked sarcastically. Her mood had progressively gotten more and more sour during this trip. Was it her concern for her husband that wore her thin, or something else? True, Magneto had double-crossed them in the past, but they were very much dependent on him now. If she were wise, she would temper passion with reason like Storm.

"Why should I do that?" he answered lightly. "Here in Genosha, there is nothing to fear or hide from. Charles and I have our differences, but without the outside pressure from _homo sapiens_ to drive us against each other, we can co-exist peacefully. Charles is a dreamer, I accept that now." He added quietly, to himself: "And I would not ruin his last days with proof of that dream unfulfilled."

The four of them landed at his base, which was deserted and dark, but due to his powers, he operated the entire facility himself. He opened the hangers for the aircraft and turned on the lights from a distance. The building hummed with startled life: some of the light bulbs were dead from old age, and the computer screens flickered like a confused child awoken from deep sleep. From the hanger, he led them to the elevator. Storm swallowed her claustrophobia once more, and stepped in, wondering if he were _intentionally_ tormenting her. They rode down to the sixth floor and then entered what appeared to be an underground parking garage. The floor and walls were cement, and thick cement pillars punctuated every ten feet or so. Across the room, Storm saw the distant flickering of a computer keyboard. The man wasn't much for comfort or decorations…

"This way," he instructed, and led them to the device. It flickered and then lit up in hues of green. "This is I.R.I.S – the Immobile Radar Investigator System – originally created to locate my dear Magda, I've since modified it to locate others. It is not limited to _homo sapiens_ or _homo superiors_. All it requires is that the target has a traceable brain pattern."

"How will it know Remy from everyone else?" asked Rogue.

"I have a sample of his energy signature. I.R.I.S. will search it out and provide us with coordinates to his location." Magneto then turned back to the machine and began entering some information. Not surprisingly, the user input required a special requirement that only _he_ met. I.R.I.S. required the entire floor to generate and exist, but the only working part that interacted with the user was a standard keyboard and a large screen built into the machine. The screen didn't present pictures or words, just numbers running in sequence and a grid that mapped some sort of energy, like a hospital heart monitor. Storm was foolish enough to get her hopes raised, but after several minutes, he confessed, "I apologize, ladies. I've located his signature, there can be no doubt about that, but I don't understand the result. This isn't a coordinate, it's a _formula_."

He was silent for a long time. Finally, Rogue pressed: "So what does that mean?"

"I believe it means he is no longer on Earth."

"Well, grab a calculator and work out that formula!"

He slowly shook his head. "My deepest apologies, Rogue, but I do not know this formula. It is too advanced for our technology. Even if I could solve it, I'd have no way of verifying my results short of transmitting a message. Who's to say he would answer?"

"Ain't ya gonna _try_?"

"Rogue, please," Storm argued, "Consider the circumstances. Gambit has been _notoriously_ difficult to locate or track telepathically. Most likely, he has found a way to circumnavigate this method as well. How could he _possibly_ get into space?"

"This is the closest Ah've been, Storm. Ah ain't just gonna walk away because of a big math problem."

"What about Matilda?" Stryfe finally spoke. His voice was so quiet that at first, no one was sure what he'd even said. Once the soft words were processed, they were still a mystery. What _about_ Matilda?

"Ah, yes!" Magneto said suddenly. "A cyberpath! That might very well be the key to solving this enigma. Well done, Stryfe." He turned to Rogue and said, "A cyberpath should be able to translate the formula into a visual and audio format. That should _at_ _least_ clear up this confusion about the reliability of I.R.I.S. It may not give us an exact location, but if he has left the planet, he must be in a vessel of some sort. Perhaps he is with familiar company, and you will be able to contact _them_."

"Sounds like a plan!" Rogue said enthusiastically. "Now, how do we get a cyberpath?"

"We are in _Genosha_," Magneto replied. "You've got your pick of mutant abilities. You're only limited by their strengths."

"I shall go," Storm quickly volunteered. She told her companion, "Perhaps you should get working on that formula, just in case this path proves fruitless."

With as much dignity as she could muster, Storm proceeded back to ground level. She wanted to fly into the sky and never feel the tight embrace of enclosed space again. Instead, she walked slowly with her head held high… and when at last she was free to the open, cool air, she shuttered with joy and praised the Goddess for small miracles. Once her fear had passed, she realized what an incredibly stupid thing she'd done by leaving Rogue with Magneto. The younger woman could handle herself in any dangerous situation – of that much, Storm was certain. As long as the danger presented itself in opposition and offered nothing she wanted, Rogue could find a way to defeat it. But curiosity was a challenger Rogue could never overcome. Like a child, she was constantly drawn into dark corners and back alleys by the promise of shared secrets. Never mind how many times she'd been lied to, left empty handed, and robbed of her lowly possessions, she could not resist the call to secret knowledge. Magneto promised to help her find Remy, and to that cause, any wife would blindly follow. But sweet Rogue was so young and innocent when she married. She had no control over her life-stealing powers, and it was only for her children that she mastered them. But in removing the chains of one master, she put on the chains of another. Her motivation for finally overcoming the barrier which had so long denied her physical love was the very thing that _denied_ her physical love… Or at least, the option to love _freely_. Now that she'd had a taste of it, she craved more. It wasn't her fault, really. Unlike most, she'd never sampled a variety, and now her mind wondered what she'd missed in her youth. _Pondering_ was one thing. _Acting_ was quite another. Following her impulses – as she was prone to do – could cost her everything. Perhaps Storm was out of line by guarding Rogue's actions, but she had good reason to question her. She knew about Augustus. Rogue's… _acquaintance_. The charming, handsome young man who'd taken her for coffee, and later, dinner and a movie. The charming fellow she'd never touched but couldn't forget. Yes, Storm knew. And she'd lied to Remy about it. Rogue had promised to stop seeing him, but she'd broken that promise. Storm now found herself an unwilling accessory in this conspiracy, so to some degree, it was her responsibility to protect Rogue from herself.

She would begin by bringing Remy home. She would find a cyberpath before the day was done.

.::.

Johnny was in the recording studio listening to Keisha's latest song. The girl didn't normally write songs, but she was incredibly talented. It was only a matter of time before she wanted to do something more than dress provocatively and sing other people's songs. This one was quite good. _Really_ good, actually. After she finished, she set her headphones on the stand and asked what he thought. He smiled and gave her a thumbs up. This could be the single the band had been waiting for. Out the corner of his eye, Johnny noticed his personal assistant waiting patiently for his attention.

"_Lo siento_, Kya, I didn't see you there. What can I do for you?"

Kya smiled softly but he noticed tears in her eyes. "Mr. Sanchez, you have a visitor. It's Mr. Scott Summers."

"Summers…. Summers… I know that man…"

"He used to be the headmaster at Honor's school," she reminded him. "He worked with her father…"

"That's right! What the devil is he doing here?"

Her smile faltered. "He needs to speak with you."

Johnny felt the ground falling away from his feet. Like a ghost in a machine, he met Mr. Summers in his tiny, messy office. He asked Kya to hold his calls, cancel his day, and get Solie to the studio. He knew he would need her. Then he heard the words as if coming from a television screen.

"I'm very sorry to tell you this… We haven't recovered any remains… The damage was massive… What she was doing there in the first place… I can't tell you how sorry I am for this… Mr. Sanchez? Mr. Sanchez?... Johnny?"

"_Sí?"_

"I know you're going through a lot, but I haven't been able to reach Bella Donna."

Oh God. _Belle_. Johnny felt a blow to his gut and doubled over his desk. He didn't want to cry in front of this man, but he simply couldn't stop the tears. This would _destroy_ her.

"What about Remy?" Johnny managed to ask.

"Gambit and I had a falling out several months ago. I suppose that's why Belle isn't returning my calls, but I really need to speak with her. I understand they were trying to keep this in the family… But Gambit's very ill. He attacked his little girl, and for some reason, Honor chose to go after him. Bella Donna doesn't have anyone right now. Would it be asking too much for you to stay with her?"

"No, of course not," he said with a distant voice. "I'll go to her immediately."

.

.

_To Be Continued…_

**.**

**.**

**Author's Notes: **San Marco is a fictional country in South America, where Magneto has a base.

Surprise! Ethan is Stryfe! For those of you not in the know, Stryfe is Nate/Cable's clone, created by Rachel after Cable became infected with the Legacy Virus as a young boy. She knew Cable was vital to the survival of mutant kind, and thought this was a solution to preventing his death. Fortunately, Cable managed to hold his infection back with his telekinesis. His clone was kidnapped by Apocalypse (who thought he was Cable), and grew into a hateful villian known as Stryfe, bent on killing Cable. That's really the extent of the character as provided by Marvel. Being more character-driven, I provided poor Stryfe with a pre- and post-crazy personality, and I hope the transition was believable and meaningful. I gave him a name, adoptive parents, hobbies… and that crappy thunderbird, which is still more than Marvel gave him!

I'm really, REALLY sorry this took so long to post! I had it written, but I'm still in the process of moving, so half my stuff is still in boxes. Hope it was worth the wait, please review!


	12. Intermission: Lost

**Disclaimer:** I do not own.

**The Ballad of Honor and Tess**

**Intermission: Lost**

I slept in alley ways, abandoned buildings, and vacant houses like a common vagrant. During the day, I used my psychic abilities to acquire transportation and food – in semi-trucks and trashcans, mostly. To dodge predators and prey on kind strangers, I was forced to use my all-seeing eye nearly non-stop. Of course, I once again found myself unable to stop the flood of visions. At night, I was tortured with dreams of my father in pain. He was trapped and frightened, and he wanted to go home. I wanted to go home, too.

One foot in front of the other, in front of the other, in front of the other.

I grew careless. Sometimes I would stumble and fall, and although I cut my skin and saw it turn purple, I never felt pain. One day I scraped my knee and found the spoiled skin utterly fascinating. I might've sat there forever, memorizing the disturbed chunks of white, pink, red and purple flesh, if a certain black-haired, blue-eyed angel hadn't found me.

"You're alright," said Tess. "You've barely damaged the epidermis. Come on, I'll help you stand."

I took her hand, secretly relishing her tender concern. My mother never encouraged me to feel sorry for my own pain.

Tess and I continued together, hand-in-hand. "I've been watching you," she told me, "You're getting progressively worse… I don't like to think how you'd be if I hadn't shown up. Come on, don't slow down. We've got so much further to go."

She stayed with me all day, recollecting sweet stories from our earliest days – breaking into the Danger Room at Xavier's, traveling to Mutie Con, screaming our voices raw at Johnny's concerts… She pointed out something I hadn't realized: I'd introduced her to seafood, and she'd taught me how to cook rice. We'd shared our prayers of faith without scorn or fear. So much of the foundation of me was built with bricks that came from her. What sort of person would I be if she'd never been my friend? I pointed out something to her: I missed my _friend_ more than my lover. She and I were strong enough to survive alone, but we thrived together. I wanted her in my life.

"I'm always with you," she replied with a strange, peaceful smile. "Watch your step, honey. There's a sharp drop here."

We left the town together and wandered into a wasteland, where we spent the night. She built a fire and fed me water and beef jerky. She stayed with me until I fell into a deep, happy sleep, and when I awoke, she was gone.

I continued on alone. The cities and towns all blurred together. Somewhere in Arizona, I picked up with a group of Mexican pilgrims. They didn't talk to me (even though I spoke Spanish), but they didn't grab at my breasts and ass, either. I followed them as they leapt from a bridge to a moving train. My legs failed as I landed, and I slid perilously towards the edge. I'm sure I saw Tess grab my arm and pull me back to safety, but she was gone as quick as she came. I laid down indifferently, resting my mind and body while the box cart jostled me around. The next time I opened my eyes, the sun was high and relentless. The train was still and the world completely silent. I climbed down, my limbs stiff and sharp with pain. But my spirits were renewed by this flat, arid land.

Texas.


	13. The Great Escape

**Disclaimer: **I do not own.

**The Ballad of Honor and Tess**

**The Great Escape**

_I wanna have the same last dream again,  
the one where I wake up and I'm alive.  
Just as the four walls close me within,  
my eyes are opened up with pure sunlight.  
I'm the first to know,  
my dearest friends,  
even if your hope has burned with time,  
anything that's dead shall be re-grown,  
and your vicious pain, your warning sign,  
you will be fine._

Hey, oh, here I am,  
and here we go, life's waiting to begin.

Any type of love - it will be shown,  
like every single tree reach for the sky.  
If you're gonna fall,  
I'll let you know,  
that I will pick you up  
like you for I,  
I felt this thing,  
I can't replace.  
Where everyone was working for this goal.  
Where all the children left without a trace,  
only to come back, as pure as gold,  
To recite this all.

Hey, oh, here I am,  
and here we go, life's waiting to begin.  
~The Adventure by Angels and Airwaves  


.::.

Storm found a capable cyberpath at the computer repair store. The woman's name was Jill Turner, and she was a prime sentinel: part human, part machine. Unlike Nate Summers, who was part machine because of the techno-organic virus which threatened to completely encompass him, prime sentinels were created by insane men who called themselves scientists. Their condition was completely stable. Not all cyberpaths were part-machine (likewise, not all prime sentinels were cyberpaths), but this couldn't _hinder_ her abilities. Had she possessed this ability before her horrible transformation? Storm wondered, but was too polite to ask. Jill said she hadn't had any experience with alien technology, but she was willing to give it a shot. Storm convinced Jill to decipher the codes for free, and then escorted her to Magneto's base nearby.

"Ya ever done anything like this before?" Rogue asked her.

"With human satellites, yes," Jill told her. "Alien technology, no. But if you are limited to the people in Genosha, I am your best hope."

The young cyberpath then removed a panel on I.R.I.S., peeled back plastic skin from the palms of her hands, and placed her hands on the machinery. Once she made a connection, her hands glowed with the same green light I.R.I.S cast on everything. The light shown through her hands like an X-ray, showing the bones inside weren't natural but mechanic. Storm wondered if her entire skeletal structure had been altered, but again tapered her curiosity. Hank wouldn't be able to contain himself, she thought with a secret smile. Turning her attention back to the present matter, she watched Magneto again enter Remy's energy signature. The formula and grid appeared briefly, and then transformed into an image of Remy sitting on something like a bed. The piece of furniture was very narrow – almost too slender to hold him – and had high sides that curved slightly over the bed. The legs of the device served to elevate it five feet off the ground. Apparently, the bed was created for someone much taller and thinner than the average human. Like all things through I.R.I.S.'s eyes, the image had a green hue. It was like watching a movie on a television screen with the color obscured. The instant he appeared, Rogue and Storm straightened in spite of themselves. It was really _him!_ He was well and alive. Honor had been right: Magneto was the key to their riddle. Never mind that they didn't know where he was; this was the closest they'd come yet. Rogue approached the screen and studied his surroundings: smooth, metallic walls; high ceilings; even his clothes had the heavy use of metal. On the metal piece covering his shoulder was the unmistakable mark of the Shi'ar.

"You see that?" Rogue asked giddily.

"The Shi'ar," said Storm soberly. "That eliminates the _planet_ from our search, and opens up the entire _universe_."

"If anyone could cure him, it'd be the Shi'ar," Rogue was positively beside herself. "And he managed to reach them, galaxies away!" She turned back to the screen and touched his face lovingly. "He'll probably get home on his own, too…"

Storm turned to Jill, "Could you show us something more? The outside of the building, perhaps?"

Jill didn't respond.

"It doesn't appear that she can speak two languages at once," Magneto said. "We shall continue to monitor what information is available. If Gambit has found an ally, it is very likely you will also know his contact. That should narrow the search; do you not agree?"

Storm was hesitant to agree with him on anything. Luckily, she didn't have to answer. On the screen, a woman joined Remy in his chamber. She was slight with short, black hair and casual, human clothes.

"Lila Cheney!" Rogue smacked her forehead. "Of course! How _else_ could he travel across galaxies in such a short time?"

Lila had been a long-time friend of the X-Men, although chose to work on her own. The popular singer and inter-galactic teleporter had her own priorities: the advancement of mutant kind was not among them. She'd toured through Valle Soleada the same summer that Rogue and Remy lived there with Honor. Rogue met her only briefly after her concert, but shortly afterwards, Remy disappeared for "work" and a nearby lab reported a break-in. If anything went missing, the lab never said.

"_That_ was the woman he was traveling with in Alabama," Storm concluded.

"_How're you feeling?" Lila asked Remy, crawling up onto the bed with him._

_He smiled at her. "Right as rain, chere. De vacuum of space sucked all de voices right out m' head."_

_She smiled and tucked a lock of hair behind his ear._

"Alright, girlie," growled Rogue at the screen. "You got about _**three**_ seconds to _**back off**_."

_Remy grabbed Lila's hips and pulled her closer. Their lips met in a passionate kiss and she pressed him against the bed. Her fingers moved easily to unclasp his alien garb. In turn, he tore off her tank top and unbuttoned her jeans. They moved with such ease and confidence that even Stryfe could tell this ground wasn't undiscovered._

"Stop this!" Storm shouted at Jill. As before, the girl didn't respond. "Magneto, stop this at _once_ or I shall do so with all the force of nature!"

Rogue turned and left the room.

Storm looked at the screen again briefly. She hated him more than she ever thought possible. So he'd left earth with no intention of ever returning. His wife. His children. He'd abandoned them. Or, the other option, he'd seduced Lila to gain her help. He'd used her and would break promises to her, too. He was paying her with currency no longer his to give. Either way, he was a scoundrel unworthy of _either_ women, and _certainly_ of unworthy of both. Storm didn't watch long. She turned and quickly followed Rogue. Behind her, she could hear the moans and grunts of two people making love, and Magneto calmly removed Jill's hands from the computer board. Storm was so angry that she even blamed Honor for not warning them, and after reflecting on that impulse, hoped dearly that Honor _never_ knew what kind of man her father truly was.

Rogue had locked herself in a storage room on the hanger deck.

Storm knocked and then called through the door, "Rogue?... Please unlock the door. I can do it myself. Please don't force my hand."

"Ah just wanna be alone," she called back.

"I understand, but I am concerned for your welfare."

"Don't _insult_ me, 'Ro. Ah ain't gonna do anything stupid. Stupidest thing Ah ever did was _marryin'_ that-! _That-!"_ She sighed, and the rage fled from her. Her voice returned, defeated, "Please just leave me alone. Ah'll be alright, sug." Silence answered her, and she thought she heard Storm walk away. But a few moments later, the latch on the door unlocked and the handle clicked. Rogue huffed and ripped the door back so forcefully that the hinges buckled. Was a little privacy following public hurt and humiliation too much to ask?

"Ah _told_ ya-! …Magnus?" She tried to calm her face. "Sorry, Ah thought you were Storm."

"Understandable."

"Ah'd like to be alone, if ya don't mind."

"You're trying to find the strength to endure," he said. "You needn't search alone. Isn't that why you came to me?"

.::.

Back in her Manhattan penthouse, Tess showered thoroughly. While the sun rose through her water-front window, she curled her hair and dressed the way Mr. Shaw insisted she dress – black stilettos, stockings with garter, black panties and corset. He said it was the dress code, and indeed, everyone conformed. It didn't really bother her, and it didn't appear to bother Mr. Shaw, either. She painted her face in a way that flattered it: white powder to hide the scars, black mascara and liner around her blue eyes, and burgundy to stain her lips. She put a little extra powder over the fading bruise beneath her right eye. Mr. Shaw wouldn't appreciate that. People would think she got it from _him_. The notion was completely ridiculous. He _needed_ her too much to risk losing her over something as fickle as his temper. Yes, she'd made herself irreplaceable. The man was a boor: pig-headed and arrogant and greedy, and he required the almost invisible touch of a woman to keep his clients happy and his associates loyal. The two of them had come to an understanding of sorts. He wasn't very friendly, but he could use her skills and reimburse her tremendously. She was untouchable, but provided him with rarer luxuries. Through this understanding, they had started to grow attached. They shared little jokes and codes known only to them, and Tess had started looking forward to these brief moments of easy contentment. She _thought_ she was happy. Whenever she felt a little restless, she'd tap into Honor's head and feed her desires. There was no real touching involved, so there was no guilt, no commitment, and no betrayal. It was a shared fantasy and nothing more. After she'd slated her carnal impulses, Tess could return to work with her reputation intact and her life in order. Everything was balanced.

But nothing good lives forever. Inevitably, Honor got in one of her _moods_ and decided Tess was the cause of _all_ the negative things in _all_ the world. Overnight, her ex went from compliant lover to vengeful victim, and everything Tess did to try and appease the situation only made things worse. She tried giving Honor time before they met to speak in person, but Shaw insisted on accompanying her. Despite all her sacrifices, he still didn't trust her entirely, and she really had no choice. But he wouldn't care if Tess had been honest, and she spent time with Honor to reconcile hard feelings. He wouldn't be _happy_, but he wouldn't be betrayed, either. She didn't think that _seeing_ her would revive old feelings so vividly. When Honor walked through the restaurant doors, Tess didn't feel a throbbing between her legs or a tingling on her lips. It was a dull, familiar ache in her heart that showed her how truly _dead_ she'd become. Tess didn't think Honor would turn around without a word and peel away at the mere _sight_ of Shaw… Never mind that Tess had endured the same pain every day after Ethan and Honor slept together. Never mind that she'd kept _her_ actions civilized. Honor _thought_ Shaw was sleeping with Tess, and for that crime, wouldn't show him an ounce of curtsey. An entire afternoon – _wasted_. So later that day, she asked Honor to come speak with her privately. Could Honor wait until Tess took a break? Exercise patience? Of course not. She charged in, started a fight, hurt a good amount of people… And in spite of herself, Tess wanted so _badly_ to join her. It could be like old times, when they'd run away together and get into trouble. It would be them against the world, or as Tess called it: home. Facing insurmountable odds with 'On was the only place or time that Tess felt like herself. It hurt more than it should have when Honor moved on so easily: one girlfriend after another, each of them so different from Tess. But when she came back for her, Tess felt validated. She'd been the first, the most loved. The bond between them had never changed. When they stumbled into the alley like a pair of horny teenagers with their hands hidden and torsos exposed, nothing felt more right. Somewhere between eager foreplay and awkward orgasms, nothing felt right. What had gone wrong?

Tess was never one for self-flagellation, but she'd committed a grave mistake with someone she cared about deeply. Honor was her most beloved. In a thousand life times, she could _never_ love anyone the way she loved her. Such a person deserved better treatment than estranged friend and casual lover. She decided to give her space, since that's what she clearly wanted. For weeks, there was no communication between them until Mr. LeBeau became ill. Their forced sexual display for Shaw added to the negative feelings between them, but there was still hope for reconciliation. Honor came to her when she needed help, and Tess supplied her with the talents that only she could. She didn't push the matter, but she _did_ acknowledge the past: something 'On was still unwilling to do. They were admittedly working towards the same goal, which could bring them back together, but their reconciliation seemed… cold and professional. Again, Tess didn't argue the point. Honor's entire family was in danger, she had limited contact with them, and her failure could result in their demise. These were _hardly_ the grounds upon which to rebuild a relationship. She always thought she'd have more _time_. She never thought Honor and Ethan would go into Cerebra and never come out. Immediately after the explosion, she knew Nate would go to his father. He could do nothing else. She made him believe 'On was dead, hoping he'd deliver that message without a whisper of doubt on his words. Only after she reached New York did she attempt to reestablish a connection to Honor's mind. She hoped the distance would keep X and Cyclops from overhearing the conversation, but Honor's end was completely silent. Hopefully, she'd merely found a sufficient way to hide her thoughts.

.::.

_Beaumont, Texas  
_A boy tried to run from the alley, but tripped, fell on his face and disappeared back into the shadows. A passerby witnessed the strange act and peaked into the darkness out of curiosity. He was immediately greeted by a sharp face with striking yellow eyes and hair.

"What de _fuck_ are you lookin' at?"

The man gasped and stepped back. Behind this golden-faced demon he saw that three young men had another one pinned to the hard cement ground. His clothes were torn and his face bloody. His captors – all strong men armed with cheap but efficient weapons – appeared to have no intention of releasing him soon. The man quickly looked away and continued on his way; he didn't want to get involved in _gang_ activity.

Vaughn, the ringleader, pulled out his homemade blow torch and returned to his captive. His cousin, Clayton, was strong as an ox, and had the boy in an unbreakable hold. The little prick had only gotten loose because he'd kicked Clayton in the crotch. Luckily, Clayton was high on kick, and it would take a wound worse than that to bring him down. Vaughn's newest rooks, thirteen-year-olds Guy and Hollis, were present, too. Despite their young age, they had the sort of big-brute attitudes and bodies a job like this required.

"I ain't gonna ask you again," said Vaughn, lighting the flame, "What de hell you doin' in T'ief territory?" From the side, he noticed another shadow in to open alley end, and rounded with impatience on the newest intruder. "_Dis ain't a fuckin'-!..._ Honor?"

She looked like a zombie. There was no light at all to her red and black eyes, and her clothes were dirty, bloody and disheveled. Her hair, which was beginning to reclaim its length, had half fallen from its tie. The left side was knotted as if a small creature had made its home there. She stood favoring her right leg with her hands at her sides and her eyes placed somewhere behind Vaughn. Even from this distance, she smelled like piss. It was a miracle she hadn't been picked up by slave traders or worse – the cops. But she looked like such a mess that people probably looked the other way and waited for the horror to pass.

He smoothly turned back to his captor and said jovially, "Today's your lucky day! Ain't everyday de N'awlins queen comes t' call." His bright face transformed into a hideous one as he punched the boy's head. "Don't _ever_ cross dos tracks again or you ain't _goin'_ back!"

The boy stumbled away and Vaughn strolled carelessly to the girl in the street. "You lackin' your lithium again, ain't you, highness?"

"Help… me…" She pleaded.

He grabbed her shoulders and led her to a black pick-up truck parked hazardously down the street. It had a bent antenna, several dents and scraps, and mud caked around the tires. "Yes, yes, _mademoiselle_, you come t' de right place." He opened the passenger side door and said, "Your chariot awaits, _ma chérie_."

She climbed in and wrapped her arms around herself. When he closed the door, she jumped, and Clayton spread his palms in annoyance. He'd ridden into town with Vaughn to collect on a debt owed to them, and Vaughn was his ride home, too. Suddenly, this _girl_ shows up, stoned out of her mind, and Vaughn dumps his own kin to accommodate her!

"Are you fuckin' _kiddin'_ me, _homme_?"

Vaughn took a warning swing at him and replied through closed teeth. "Dat's Honor _fuckin'_ LeBeau, Clay! De _only_ key t' our survival, showin' up t' ask for _my_ help! You _ever_ wanna be more den muscle, you better learn t' split!"

"_Oouuiiii!"_ Clayton called after him as Vaughn climbed in the truck. "Big _fuckin'_ martyr, takin' one for de team! I'll believe _dat_ when she's ugly and _you're_ de one in de cold!"

Vaughn cranked the truck and headed for his trailer in the desert. Beside him, Honor began to shake. It wasn't cold. She appeared to be suffering from withdraws. He'd get her the lithium she needed and let her sleep off this spell. After a shower, meal and some rest, she'd be back to her old self. Suddenly, her eyes darted to him, and she looked at him like she'd never seen him before. Worried that she'd jump from the vehicle while it was still moving, he offered to put an arm around her. She looked startled, but then relaxed and settled against him. Within seconds – maybe heartbeats – she was fast asleep under his arm. The steady position was agonizing, but he kept still to avoid waking her. From this position, he could see right down her cleavage. Half an hour later, he pulled up to the rickety old trailer. The sun was beginning to set, and soon temperatures would plummet. His place didn't have heat: it was never a problem for him before, but she'd need to keep warm. He didn't even have extra blankets. So he quickly clearly away the explosives and turned the stove on to warm the place. Then he carried her to the mattress on the living room floor and piled both blankets and his coat over her. Her pea coat, which looked like a rag garment, was still nicer than his things. He watched her for a moment and then turned to gather her medical requirements.

.::.

Johnny took two Xanax's to compose himself. He was still a mess, but he didn't want anyone else telling Belle about Honor. Maybe he wasn't the man of the family anymore, but he still had an obligation to protect and support them. Solie rode with him to Poughkeepsie, but they were chauffeured. They were both too upset to drive. His black Sedan pulled into the LeBeau's driveway, and Johnny felt like the lent on a roach's belly. How could he possibly do this?

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay?" Solie asked, taking his hand.

"No," he answered. "She'll be hysterical. I don't want anyone to see her that way."

"I could help with the kids."

He kissed the back of her hand. "I'll call you in a few days; let you know how she's doing." He left her with tears on her face. The car didn't wait for him to go inside before it pulled away. He took a deep breath and tried to steel his nerves. It was four steps up to the porch, and another six to the front door. The doorbell chimed merrily, and a few seconds later, Belle opened the door with Hero on her hip. Belle looked so harmless in her green jump suit with her yellow bangs in her eyes. He wanted to take her in his arms, but she quickly attacked him with her words.

"_Jesu_, Johnny, you look like hell. Who died?"

He burst into tears. She set Hero down, put her arms around him, and helped him into the living room. Some help _he_ was!

"I'm sorry, Belle," he sniffed. "It's Honor."

Her eyes widened. "_Quoi?"_

"I'm so sorry. She was in California, doing something… _rebellious_… She tried to blow up a building and got caught up in the explosion…"

"Dat ain't possible."

"Why? Do you know where she is?"

"Do dey have a body?"

"No. There's nothing _left_, Belle."

"Summers put you up t' dis?"

"This isn't a _game_!" He shouted. "Why would anyone-"

A soft beeping noise like an oven alarm went off. Belle rushed over to the television and turned the channel. She was blocking Johnny's view, so he couldn't see what she was seeing. He didn't think it matter, but she rounded on him and snapped, "You're de damned Trojan horse! Dey've got us surrounded!" She ran into the kitchen and whistled sharply, as if calling a dog. Three toddlers came marching in while she pulled three guns from a hidden cabinet under the sink. She tucked one behind her back, tossed one to Johnny and asked, "Can ya handle it?"

"Are you kidding?"

"Hope dat's a yes," she slapped a magazine into her weapon. "_Petites!_ From now on, you never leave each other's company. Understood? Johnny, take dem upstairs t' de master bedroom. Right wing, all de way down."

"What're you doing?"

"Oh, _moi_?" She pressed a button inside the breaker box and metal shutters closed over all the windows. The sunlight was completely blocked out, casting them in darkness. The safety lights, which were red for some reason, kicked on. "I'm just protectin' my family."

"Belle, what in hell-?"

"_Bedroom_!" She ordered. "Go!"

He followed the three toddlers upstairs and to the assigned room. Johnny hadn't seen all the bedrooms in the house. In fact, the only bedroom he'd seen before was Honor's. This was Remy and Rogue's room, and was much larger and grander than Honor's room in the tower. The floor was polished hardwood and stretched flawlessly into a walk-in closet and adjacent bathroom. The room was large enough for a king-sized bed with silver satin sheets and a mahogany dresser with bright golden handles. It was punctuated by columns and lined with crown molding along the floor and ceiling. One wall had two enormous windows, but like all the others, was currently sealed shut. Another wall had a double glass-door exit to what he assumed was a balcony, but this was also sealed shut. While Johnny was busy taking in his surroundings, the little boy, Ollie, opened up the entertainment center to reveal a television. Then he found the remote control and entered a series of numbers. Johnny assumed he was looking for cartoons, but instead the screen lit up with a series of security cameras monitoring the perimeter. A few were black, but the rest revealed broken fences, snapped lines, and fleeting shadows. More screens went black and Johnny's stomach dropped. What had he done?

Belle swept into the room and barked, "Alright, so they're on de property, but dey ain't getting anywhere _near_ de house. Got de lasers locked to stun."

"Is that Summers?" Johnny asked. He never saw a figure; he couldn't even tell how many people were out there.

"You got it. _Petites_, I want you t' stay in dis room. You don't leave unless I tell you _or_ dere's a fire. Understand?"

"What's going on?" Johnny asked, noticing more of the screens had gone black.

"Wolverine warned me dis might happen," she turned to the television screen and memorized the images before the last of them faded to black. "Honor blew up dere tracking device… Emma got hurt pretty bad… I'm sure dat wasn't her intention, mind. She likes Em. Now Summers is lookin' for her. I'm sure he's already cut de phone lines, but I've got a back-up. If we can hold'm off until Storm and Rogue get back, we'll be fine. Gotta get'm outta here before de kids get back, t'ough. _Merde_, dat's what he _wants_."

"This is ridiculous, Belle! What's he gonna do? Hold you hostage in your own home?"

"_Oui_."

Johnny pulled her close and spoke softly so the little ones wouldn't hear him. "And if you try to leave? Will he hurt you? The kids?"

"Depend how bad Emma's hurt," she answered.

"He can't do that! The X-Men aren't for his _personal_ use."

"Dey're family, _cher_. Hurt one, you hurt dem all. 'Sides, we planned for somet'ing like dis. Anyt'ing happens t' me, send de _petites_ t' de panic room."

"You _planned_ for this? So what's the plan?"

"We hold 'm back till Rogue gets here."

Johnny watched her switch the camera views to areas inside the house. Everything was quiet, locked up, and apparently safe. He remembered learning about sieges in history class as a child. _True_ sieges weren't the sudden, bloody overthrows portrayed in movies. When an attacking army wanted to conquer a castle or fort, they'd simply cut off the escape routes: prevent the captives from sending for help or retrieving food. Eventually, those inside would starve and open the doors themselves. If that was Summers' plan, Johnny didn't have to fear for himself. This castle was well protected and stocked up. They could survive for weeks, even without power. But Honor – with her precognitive abilities – would sense her mother was in danger, and return home long before their supplies ran out. Summers would be waiting for her, and then what?

"We're just gonna _sit_ here and do _nothing?"_ asked Johnny, his face burning.

Belle tapped her lips to silence him and then glanced at the children. He didn't like it, but his options were limited. He nodded to signal his understanding and pulled the toddlers into a corner for a game of go-fish.

.::.

"_Everybody wants me, Gambit. Why can they not simply leave me alone? I just want to live my life."_

"_Don't we all."_

"_Is it so much to ask?"_

"_In your case… You have value, Storm. 'Cause of who you are, what you've done, what you can do – and you have enemies. Hard place t' be, harder road to walk. Survive both better, I bet, on a full stomach. Gotcha some new frocks, so you get changed, we go eat, figure some next moves."_

Storm was just a child when they'd spoken those words. Or rather, she was trapped in a child's body. Younger than her goddaughter presently, Storm was alone and running for her life. She didn't even have memories to keep her company. When everyone saw her as a child to exploit, Gambit had taken her in, given her shelter and love and food. Even when her trouble became his, he stayed at her side. Despite whatever he had done before or after that, she knew he was a good man with a generous heart. It helped to recall these old, precious memories when he was difficult to love.

"_Did he hurt you, 'Ro?"_

"_Gambit…. Logan and I knew what we were doing. I never had any illusions."_

"_Dat's not what I asked."_

He'd been more concerned for _Storm's_ heart than he'd ever been for his own _wife's_. He could've killed Logan after he stopped seeing Storm. Their relationship had never been serious, and he'd never implied that it might be. She had been a fool to deceive herself, but Gambit could not blame her. He wanted only to protect her. But had he protected Rogue? His infidelities preceding their marriage were common knowledge. The rumors had ceased so abruptly following the birth of their children that she wondered if he hadn't simply gotten better with his alibies. She'd always wanted to believe the _best_ in him… That being a father had healed his heart in ways unfathomable, and he no longer felt the need to seek new, meaningless bed partners. But he had once again fallen into old habits. She'd witnessed his failure with her own eyes, as had his wife and two or three others. After Rogue requested some solitude, Storm moved above ground to await a change. Frankly, she did not know how to proceed. How much time should she give her friend? What if Rogue emerged, determined to leave Remy in his new situation? Storm would still try to use Magneto's technology to her benefit, but she knew he was only helping _Rogue_. What if they finally reached him, only to discover he had no intentions of returning? What if they could not reach him, and Lila would not return him? Storm didn't have the answers. So she comforted herself the only way she could; she quietly bowed her head and returned a few drops of water back to Mother Earth. She'd given so much for this family – and she'd do so again – but she was so weary of sacrificing for _another's_ family. It hurt to be so close to love and yet be an outsider. She thought about Jean with bittersweet fondness. Poor, kind-hearted Jean who had sacrificed _everything_ for her cause… Had she ever taken from life what she truly wanted? Had she ever held a child of her own? She, too, made due by living off the joy of others. If she'd only known how much better the world would be for her children…

Footsteps, steady and firm, worked a path to Storm. From behind, Rogue rubbed her shoulders and then embraced the older woman.

"Ah'm done sulkin', if you're ready to get back to work."

Storm turned and looked at her. "_Sulking?_"

"Not anymore, sug. Too much to do. You need more time?" When Storm only looked at her in wonder, Rogue continued: "Renegade just patched a message through. The kids ran into some problems in San Francisco, and no one knows where Honor is. He hasn't been able to reach Belle, either. He attached a file for you especially. We ain't opened it yet."

"Where is he?"

"Jill traced the signal to a library in Mexico City. Ah ain't spoken with him directly – it's just a recording. Ah don't know what's in the file for you, but our plans are the same. Jill's relaying a message to Lila's ship, and Magnus says he can get us to her launchin' pad. Hopefully, she'll meet us there and carry us the rest of the way."

"I will review the file immediately." Rogue turned back towards the base but Storm stopped her. "Rogue – no one could fault you for being angry. The Lady knows _**I**_ am. Had the roles been reversed, Gambit would have blown up half the facility, and you might've done the same. You deserve to be commended for your wisdom. Situations such as this are the reason you were elected field leader of the blue team, and Cyclops was wrong to strip you of the position."

Rogue's green eyes seemed to see right through Storm. "It was a blessin' in disguise, sugah."

The young mother descended back underground and Storm followed her for what she hoped would be the final time. Rogue led her into a different room: one on the second floor and appeared to be an ordinary office. Again, the walls were entirely comprised of computer monitors, and the only piece of furniture was a small, metallic stool under one of many keyboards. Magneto was waiting for them, and there was a noticeable shift in his attitude. He only spared a single glance for them, and spoke shortly. Storm wondered if he'd known about Gambit's situation beforehand; if his motive for helping them hadn't been to help _himself_. She told herself she was being paranoid. He hadn't laid out this insane scenario to trap Rogue, but when he saw a snare, he tried to catch her. She'd rejected him once and for all: that was the only explanation for his sudden sour mood.

"I apologize if my accommodations make you uncomfortable, Ororo," he said coldly. "Perhaps I could equip you with a portable telecommunications device. Tracking you down every ten minutes is taxing and wasteful."

"Gave you plenty of time to hack open that file," Rogue snapped at him. "Where is it?"

With a silent sneer, he complied. The recording began again. Renegade's face appeared, and when he spoke, his words were delayed.

"Dis message is for Rogue LeBeau and Ororo Munroe… Sorry I can't tell you guys where I am… Uri and I are safe… Honor… I don't know. Tried calling home, but no one answers. I'm sorry I can't tell you more, but dis line won't stay secure. Someone's listening, I know… I was told to finish my mission with my final breath, so here it is. De Summers procedures for Storm."

There was a pause and then his face flickered away. The screen displayed a folder icon and a moment later, the contents inside opened. Six eyes darted over the words, stopped, and then darted back over them. Storm's mind refused to believe what she was reading. Beside her, Rogue had stopped breathing. Magneto was the first to break the silence with a deep, hearty laugh.

"It's the Onslaught apprentice!"

.::.

_Vaughn's POV  
_Damn that woman for leaving her curtains open.

She knew what she was playing.

She knew he'd be there, which meant he was losing his edge. But she knew he'd be there, and she left her window open, anyway. The whole damn neighborhood might've seen her! Like Marshall Michaux, who use to stand in the window wearing nothing but his whitey-tighties. The kids would all point and laugh at his fat, hairy belly as they passed him on the way to the bus stop, but every morning he was back with a new beer can and an old pair of drawers… But seeing Honor LeBeau in her undies was **so** much better. She wore white panties that looked like boy's briefs; he never knew how sexy women were in men's cloths. Her bra was skin-tone and strapless: not attractive at all, but it kept slipping down, which he liked. She stood by her bed in her drawers, a big blue towel wrapped up her hair, and applied lotion up her legs, knees and elbows. When she stretched, her bra slid again to reveal more curves, but never peeled back from her nipples. And if it had ever been visible, he would've seen it. He nearly broke his damn neck trying to sneak a peek.

He could tell a lot about a woman by her boobs. Veiny boobs meant she'd had a kid; floppy boobs meant she used to be fat; and hard boobs meant they were fake. Honor's boobs were none of these things… Hers were perfect. Each one was a generous handful, and perky in spite of that awful bra. He knew her nipples would be perfect, too: as soft and pink as a rose petal. The rest of her body was not soft. Her legs and arms and tummy had visible muscle, which meant she worked hard. He appreciated that in a woman. A woman's body doesn't hold muscle as well as a man, and it was fashionable to look like an underfed child. Honor looked like a _woman_. Her skin was a solid shade of white: she was almost sickly pale. But it was marred by a few scars – some of them red, some pink, and some white – and that was probably the reason. Her bottom jiggled when she walked, and when she moved her arms, he could see the muscles in her back moving.

He would've given anything in the world for her to bend over or give him a clear view of her crotch. Did she shave? Did the carpets match the drapes? He imagined her pussy was full and soft, like her breasts, and she was probably tighter than others because she preferred girls.

That wouldn't deter him, no. If she ever wanted to invite a girlfriend, he wouldn't turn her down.

Drunk on lust, he finally entered her room. She was dressed by then, and it took everything in him not to rip that stupid, long dress off. She looked so much better without it. It wasn't fair that he had to watch her _dress_ – he wanted to see her _un_dress!

He couldn't touch her. No, he didn't dare.

Maybe she wanted him to, but it'd be a long time before they saw each other again. If he fucked her now, she'd think he was her ticket out of an arranged marriage, and he wasn't looking to rescue or marry her. Or, maybe she'd resent him for having sex and then never calling again. He didn't want either one of those.

They hugged, that's all. She was so inexperienced that she didn't even notice his erection. That made him feel even more self-conscious – how could she not _feel_ it? He wasn't fully erect, but still! So he was glad he couldn't fuck her.

That was six months ago.

_Not_ fucking her had been the biggest mistake of his life. Now he couldn't get her off his mind. He'd tried everything. Usually, work was a good way to distract himself; it required physical energy and focus. But thieving was a lot of waiting, and he thought about her then. Without even trying, he'd see her with some random girl. Vanessa Hudgens . Yeah, she was cute. Real short and skinny, too; Honor would probably pin her down and suck her nipples until the girl screamed. Then she'd fuck her with a dildo and suck on her clit with Honor's white, bouncy ass hanging in the air. She'd be so aroused he could smell her, even from across the room. But she'd never stop to pleasure herself. When it came to sex, she was a lioness: nothing distracted her. And once that little girl was limp from multiple orgasms - then Honor would sit on her heels and admire her work. She'd look over her white shoulder with red and black eyes, and she'd beg for him. He couldn't wait to run his hands over her broad hips, narrow waist and huge tits. He would fuck her beside her sleeping lover. He'd drive the headboard into the wall like a nail.

He had tried working out to forget her. The gym smelled like sweat and moist groins, which was disgusting at first, but once his blood was hot, he didn't notice. The air was thick with pheromones and the mirrors reflected tight, half-naked women all around him. He'd end up taking a cold shower, which inevitably lead to cramps.

He'd even tried dipping into Clayton's Rage stash… Taking Rage was probably the _worst_ thing he could've done. On that shit, he wanted to fuck _ten_ women.

And yes, he'd tried masturbation. That made him want her even _more_.

There was only one thing left to do, and that was to fuck someone else. He had to get Honor out of his system, and that's all there was to it.

Her name was Jenny Something, and she was a blond. Clayton had been trying to set him up with this slut Amanda, but if Clayton knew her, he'd probably fucked her. And Vaughn wasn't getting his cousin's sloppy seconds.

He took Jenny out to dinner and offered to go to a movie, too. She was the one to say: "Why don't we just go back to my place? I have movies there."

'_Hot damn!'_ he thought. _'Finally a woman who thinks like a man!'_

They made it to her bed, but never started the movie. He was between her legs an hour after they met. She had blond hair, but it wasn't the same shade as Honor's. Honor's hair was strawberry blond. Obviously, Honor's eyes could not be duplicated or even resembled, but this girl kept her eyes shut most of the time. Honor's body would've filled up his hands more…

"Who is she?" Jenny asked while he was putting the condom on.

He tried to play stupid. "_Quoi?"_

"The girl you're thinking about… Who is she?"

She didn't seem angry and he hadn't the presence of mind to lie, so he told the truth.

"I'm sorry, _petite_. I just _gotta_ get dis girl out m' head."

Jenny had been fucked for worse reasons, but she was too stupid to see it. She threw him out while he was still hard.

He couldn't sleep for two whole nights. Every time he tried, he'd seen Honor in her panties. He'd imagined her without them, of course. He'd imagine her every way possible: on her knees, sucking him off; looking over her shoulder while he fucked her like a dog; on her back, with her knees bent back to her ears.

He was almost desperate enough to fuck a whore, but not yet. Even _he_ had standards.

Salvation came when he least expected it – at church. He'd only gone to shut his mother up. She was on this rant again about how God was punishing her by taking André and giving her an unfaithful husband. Apparently this line of logic required dragging her living son to mass, but he was glad she did. Isobel Davis was there. They knew each other years ago, before his parents moved to New Orleans. She was short with black hair and bright blue eyes, and she was very happy to see him. She didn't look _anything_ like Honor, but she wasn't a whore, either. After an afternoon of catching up, she let him suck on her little tits. When he put her hand on his erection, she pulled away.

That's how he knew she was a virgin.

He wasn't into bedding virgins. They were inexperienced, hesitant, and clingy. Getting _her_ in the sack would take just as much work as Honor. Re-locating to New York crossed his mind. At least then he could get the girl he _really_ wanted… But he didn't. Isobel was near, and she always gave him _something_. At first, he was only allowed to touch her boobs. But then she started going down on him, which was heaven. He'd never had a girlfriend who gave blowjobs so regularly, and shamefully, he didn't even remember _her_ giving them. The old saying is true: all cats feel the same in the dark. And when the lights went out, Isobel was a tall blond with pin-up girl curves and black-and-red eyes. She had this thing about turning all the lights off, which was fine. He didn't look at her, anyway. Since she liked dirty talk, he'd usually tell her what he'd tell Honor.

"You're so incredible", "All de guys want you, but dey too scared t' ask", "You don't know how long I've thought about you like dis", "I t'ink I've always loved you".

_I think I've always loved you?_

It was too late to take it back. She was so touched by it; he didn't want to upset her. Besides, he'd learned from Jenny to lie, lie, _lie_. Despite what women say, they _want_ to be lied to. They just want the lie _maintained_. Commit to it! So he committed to lie… Introduced her to his mom, had dinner with her parents, and brought her around his friends… And three weeks after they reconnected, she guided his cock into her pussy. He hit her hymen and didn't really know how to proceed. Quick might be less painful, but it wasn't very sweet. He pulled out and pushed against it, feeling it give a little. Then he pulled out and pushed in as far as he could, and the barrier gave out. She screamed and hit him, so he knew he'd done the wrong thing.

"Sorry, _chere_. You want me t' stop?"

She shook her head 'no', but wasn't very happy about it. _She_ was the virgin, and _he_ was getting the pity fuck. This was _not_ what he imagined. Again, Honor came to mind. Back in New Orleans, after he'd saved her life, she put his head in her lap and held him close. She smelled like menthol cigarettes, and he felt like a baby chick tucked safely under his momma's breast. He could feel her heart beating. And then, with tears in her eyes, she'd said 'I love you'.

Vaughn groaned and held Isobel close. "I love you, _chere_…"

It was Honor who answered: "I love you, too, baby."

He felt something inside her unlock, and her cunt molded to fit him exactly. Gripping her hips, he moved in and out in soft, steady patterns. She was still playing hard to get: pretending to be bored or stupid. That was alright. He'd get her to come out of her shell yet. And there it was. Honor's cunt was suddenly hot and dripping wet. Her long, powerful thighs gripped at him, begging for more. He didn't fuck her any harder, just kept doing what he was doing. Her nails dug into his back and then her hips bucked against him. He smiled. There she was. He cradled her like a child while she went on fucking him, dirty bitch. Why she didn't pin him to the mattress, he didn't know. That's certainly what he was hoping for… Hoping she'd trap him in her thighs, flip him over, and ride him with her glorious white tits glowing through the dark.

He played all his aces. Normally, he didn't care whether or not he got a girl off. He did it once to prove he could, but now he didn't see the point. Oh, but Honor was different. If he couldn't make her cum, she'd dump him. That had never been a concern before, either, but he wanted to see her again. He couldn't get enough of this girl. Her breath hitched as she got close, and then finally, her legs opened up and her back arched and she cried out. The caveman in him wanted to fill her with his seed. Of course, he wore a sheath, and he hated it. A man ought to be able to fill up the woman he loves. Men had been doing it for millennia. But now he had to wrap his dick up and keep his cum to himself.

"Oh God, baby," Honor groaned, stroking his hair. "You're incredible…"

"Can I cum?" He asked, making her get wet again.

He pounded into her as hard as he could now, and she loved it. He'd always expected Assassins liked rough sex, but she was the first one he'd ever bedded… And the _Queen_, no less! He bit down on her neck and she screamed with delight. She was so loud that the whole neighborhood could hear her. Let them hear – he didn't care. Soon enough, they'd see his mark on her and know she was his. Closing his eyes, he saw her red-and-black eyes, her smile - and knew he was a goner. He was about to cum, and that would seal his fate. His body and soul would be bound to her, and no one else could ever please him again. He didn't _want_ anyone else. He loved this girl, hopelessly. She was all he ever wanted…

His body rocked a little and he tried not to call out.

"_Ah-aahhh-nnnn-uh!"_

Then he collapsed: his body covered more of her than it should have. She shouldn't be this crushed by him. So he rolled off her and realized how horrible this was. This warm, tender feeling for Honor had not been killed, it was worse than ever! He should've fucked her when he had the chance: he wouldn't be missing her so much right now. And suddenly, there was a new sensation: a pain on the left side of his chest. He was too young for a heart attack… Was his heart _literally_ breaking?

Tears built up and poured from his eyes.

"Vaughn?" Isobel said. "Baby, are you… _crying_?"

"Please leave."

She gave him a stupid look.

"Are you deaf or somethin'?" he yelled. "I said _get out!"_

She slapped him and he had a mind to slap her back, but he didn't. She gathered up her clothes and left, crying obnoxiously and slamming doors. And then he was alone – with the darkness and his aching heart. He thought he would die of sadness, and his last thoughts would be of Honor.

.::.

I awoke under a pile of small blankets, a jacket and a tattered bath robe. The mattress, which was only big enough for one person, had been thrown on the floor. The air was dark and hot, and if I'd been in my normal state, I would've been worried. But as things were, this was the safest place I'd been in days. Weeks, maybe. I pushed the blankets back, and my stirrings aroused someone in the next room. I knew it was Vaughn before I saw him. He'd given me a back-alley version of the medication I needed to clear my mind. As usual, it restricted my knowledge, but otherwise sharpened my senses. When at last he entered the room, we smiled at each other and he turned on a black light.

"Oh, please no," I covered my eyes. "Those things give me a headache."

He turned it off and we were cast in darkness. "Den you're gonna have t' sit wit' me in de dark. Power's out. I – uh – used de burner's t' make you somet'ing."

In his hands was a T.V. dinner with the plastic still over the top. The bottom was a little melted, and the whole thing smelled like burnt dirty carrots. Still, it was a decent meal: something I hadn't had since my club sandwich on the train to California. I accepted it with a smile and used my fingers to eat what I think was sticky rice. It tasted like rotten meat.

"Do you have anything to wash this down with?" I asked.

He went into the kitchen area and pulled a can from an iceless cooler. "Not'ing goes better wit' a shitty meal den a warm beer!"

"You don't have water?" I asked pitifully.

"_Non_, sorry."

He sat on the mattress beside me (there wasn't any other furniture in the trailer) while I ate and drank my disgusting little meal. I took the opportunity to observe my surroundings and figured this place and something of a dump. The floors had big sink holes, the windows were painted over, and the only power source was from another house that Vaughn managed to steal and re-direct to this trailer. This fellow discovered the crime (again), and severed the spliced line. The only bedroom was used as a storage room, and the living room looked like a chemistry lab. The kitchen appeared to be his experimental area: a lot of items were in plastic bags or in glass tubes with labels. When he needed a flame, he used propone tanks. When he needed something cooled, he used dry ice. I'd seen some pretty low places, but this one turned my stomach.

"Vaughn…" I said, after I'd chocked down as much food as I could, "What is this place?"

"Casa de Daumier!"

I knew it was a drug lab, but the thought of him _living_ here was even worse. I asked: "You don't _really_ live here, do you?"

"It ain't much…" he stretched his arms over his head and fell back with contentment and pride. "…But it's mine!"

I could've cried. "_Vaughn!_ You are one of the smartest, toughest, _cleverest_ people I know. How the _hell_ are you a _dealer_ living in a shaggin' wagon?"

"How you feelin', _petite_?" he asked as though he hadn't heard me. "Sluggish? Nauseous?"

"Some achiness and lethargy," I shrugged. "It'll pass."

"Took care a' dem burns… Matter a' fact, let's get dem bandages off. We let de skin dry out a bit and put 'm back on, _oui_?"

He took my hands and unwrapped the gaze bindings. In the dark, I'd mistaken them for my gloves. And once I paid attention to my body, I realized my left leg was stiff. I pulled up my pant leg and felt my left calf had been bandaged, too. Absent mindedly, I felt my temple. The device Ethan had given me to guard against telepaths was missing. Whether Vaughn had taken it - or I'd lost it on my journey - I couldn't be certain.

"Not'ing too bad," he said, "Like sunburn, but on de palms a' your hands. _Femmes_. Never see a man tryin' t' tan his hands. Oh, _oui_, dat," he said when I started examining my leg. "Walkin' around wit' a piece of barb wire stuck in you. One a' de knots, you know? Got infected and everyt'ing. Don't know what you was on, but it drops like a bitch."

"Vaughn, I wasn't _on_ anything."

"I know…" He paused and then leaned forward so I could smell the cigarettes on his breath. "Now you wanna tell me what you doin' in Beaumont? How much shit am I in for helpin' you out?"

Oh, yes. He'd helped me out, been kind to me; given me what meager possessions he had to give… Now it was time to remind me just how generous he'd been. Next he would be looking for re-payment. He'd accept anything I had to give, really: money, information, even an I.O.U. would be acceptable. He expected me to thank him profusely, which I did owe him, and then ask how I could ever re-pay him. Then he'd play all his best cards before asking for sex. It was foolish, really. It was a long-term sacrifice for a short-term gain, but it's what he really wanted and he didn't anticipate getting it (from me) any other way. This guy was downright _reckless_. If/when my family found out, they wouldn't be pissed with _me_. Besides that, I was promised to another man in the Guild. His family was much more powerful and could do anything they wanted to the Daumiers. My family would be powerless to help, or risk losing the marriage. I would be doing us _both_ a favor by ending this now.

"Look, Vaughn, I know what you're getting at, and you can stop. I'm not having sex with you."

He paused. "_Mais_, I was gonna lie, but if you know what I' t'inking, I need t' load you up wit' more benzodiazepines!"

We laughed easily and I felt disarmed. It was hard to stay mad at him. "Got nothin' to do with _powers_," I told him. "My father's a world-class bullshitter. I can smell a line a mile away! But really, thanks. I won't forget this."

Silence descended on the darkness.

"Dis place is a total shit hole," he said finally. "You wanna see de best part?"

"Pretty sure I'm lookin' at it," I smiled at him.

"_Yeah!"_ he laughed. "Now _who's_ tryin' t' get int' _who's_ pants?" He walked out the front door and called after me, "Get your teasin' ass out here! I ain't carryin' you anymore, _femme_, you weigh a goddamn ton!"

I followed him outside and was immediately struck by cold air. I'd forgotten how cold the desert gets at night. The sky was impossibly black and the stars impossibly brilliant. I'd _never_ seen so many stars! We climbed into his truck bed and between the cold air and cold plastic beneath my legs, I started to shiver. He unbuttoned his white, orange and blue plaid shirt and draped it around my shoulders, but I was already wearing a jacket and the shirt did little to warm me. I felt heat radiating off his arms and leaned against him. He shuttered.

"I'm sorry," I said, backing away.

"Wish you'd decide what y' want," he said shortly, "But I reckon y' ain't a girl if y' know what y' want."

"What I _want_ is t' be _warm_," I shot back.

He grabbed my arms and rubbed roughly, as if trying to make sparks from sticks. I pushed him off and sat away, deciding it was better to be cold. Before I'd woken up, I'd been dreaming about him with Isobel Davis, an old acquaintance that he'd seduced and coldly discarded. It was hard to believe that the same person who was so ruthless and selfish would also be so giving. He'd used his supplies to reclaim my mind, abandoned his cousin back in town, and delicately tended and wrapped my wounds. It was… _disturbing_, really. His recent obsession with me was downright alarming. Someone like Vaughn could turn from kind to merciless in a moment. And where had this new fascination come from, anyway? Certainly not the letters… Or his family's encouragement… Or our time in Egypt… _Egypt! _The night we left for Alexandria, he and I stepped outside for a smoke while everyone else was asleep. He stood very close to me and I wanted him to kiss me. Later, I dismissed the urge as a combination of stress and hormones, but that didn't explain our love confessional or why I was so drawn to him. He and I had been deceived by a spell put into place by my own mother. A token taken and received – that was the key component. The white candle _Renegade_ placed in my sleeping hand was given to Vaughn by pure coincidence. It was true. While I was working my butt off – laying my _life_ on the line – my mother saw me as a pawn. I thought she and I were equals – at least in the Guild. But I was a card for her to play. A very valuable card, but useable just the same. My feelings were secondary to her. Luckily, I had someone in my life that I _truly_ loved, so the love bought with lies faded away. But Vaughn didn't have anyone. His "feelings" for me festered and grew, fed by loneliness and false hope. Perhaps the truth would set him free. Maybe he'd be so hurt by my rejection that he'd put me out. It was a chance I had to take – he _deserved_ to know the truth.

"Vaughn, I need to tell you something… When we were in Egypt, my mother placed a love spell on us. She didn't mean to put it on _us_, obviously. She was tryin' to make me like Chaucer so I wouldn't be so upset about marrying him… I know about Isobel Davis. That was really horrible, what you did. But the reason you can't stop thinking about me has nothing to do with _me_. It's because of the spell. I'm sorry you got caught up in her schemes."

He was quiet for a long time. Finally, he said: "Dat was nice of her."

A laugh exploded from my mouth. I hadn't been expecting him to be so chill about it, and I saw him flash me a smile.

"Wit' a momma like dat, who needs enemies?"

"Stop it!" I punched his shoulder but laughed still.

"Missed voodoo hexes 101, did she?"

Laughing so hard I shook, I pushed all my weight against him so that he fell over. As he pushed himself back up, I fell over laughing. It's the most wonderful sensation in the world, laughing; even better than an orgasm. I hadn't broken a happy smile in so long that I was suddenly punch-drunk with joy. Vaughn watched me with a contagious grin on his long, sharp face. Once my fit subsided, he rubbed his hands together and said seriously, "M' feelin's for you have changed since Cairo, but dey were dere b'fore. Ain't no spell dat brought you _here_, neither."

I felt like a rotten turd. "Vaughn… I think it's pretty clear I've got a lotta shit goin' on right now… Please, the _last_ thing I need-"

"I ain't askin' you for nothin'," he interrupted. "You gotta girl. I got one, too. Just sayin'…"

I nodded once. "Thanks."

He watched me for a second longer before turning his attention to the heavens. The sky was so clear that I could even see the Milky Way. I pointed out all the summer constellations to him – Cassiopeia, Draco, the Big and Little Dippers, and Hercules… Since he enjoyed learning so much, I told him the stories attached to them as well. Suddenly, it occurred to me why he was listening. He'd never really _spoken_ with a woman before. Actually, he'd never spent _any_ time with one at all unless he was trying to bed her, and he was amazed at how much he liked me. When he looked at me, he had different eyes.

.::.

Belle watched her three wards sleeping peacefully in Remy's bed. They looked like a litter of kittens – sleeping atop each other, kicking and rolling and snoring with no regard for anyone else. Ollie and Becca had their mother's plain brown hair, but Becca's was thick and curly while her brother's was fine and thin. They both had big heads – a temporary trait from their premature birth – and sweet, brown freckles. Belle would kill to protect them, but she didn't love them like her little brown girl. Strong, silent Hero… With her bright indigo eyes, flaxen curls and mocha skin. Even in a large, caring family, Hero somehow stood apart. So much like her father. If anyone even _thought_ of harming this one, Belle would kill them for it. She'd kill their children and their parents and she'd make them watch. Without hesitation. Hero with her enchanting dimples and mysterious mind… Her miracle child. She kissed them all one last time. She even kissed Johnny, the dirty Mexican who'd been evicted to the floor with just a pillow. Then she double-bolted the bedroom door, counted her rounds, and headed downstairs.

…

"_MOMMA! MOMMA!"_

Johnny jerked from his light slumber, his heart suddenly pounding and his legs ready to sprint. The three tots on the bed had been torn violently out of sleep by Hero, the supposedly mute girl now screaming for her life. Between her cries, he heard the unmistakable sound of gun fire. Multiple weapons. He grabbed them all at once and pulled them to the ground, where he held them close to his body. He didn't know if the shielded windows were bullet proof or if it mattered. Maybe the attackers had something _stronger_ than bullets. He was acting purely on instinct. Becca was the only one holding on to him; the other two fought to get away. Hero escaped his grasp and ran off.

"_Hero Marius!"_ He scolded, "Get back here!"

She was deaf, of course, but she _knew_ when she was being called. Her little anomaly about being so aware but unable to hear was the reason she took so long to diagnose. The little brown girl ran to the bolted window and pounded on the metal cover with both fists. Fueled by fear, Johnny moved the twins to one arm and crossed the room to collect his goddaughter. Before he could snatch her up, the door she was pounding on exploded in a purple flash. Johnny froze and shifted his body slightly to shield Ollie and Becca from debris, but nothing came towards him. It was as if the door blew _out_ rather than _in_. But that wasn't possible. Unharmed, Hero ran out onto the second-story porch, slid her little hands through the railing, and was surrounded by more purple flashes.

"_Cease fire!"_ a man's voice called out in the distance. _"Cease fire!"_

One gun, however, refused. It paused, fired twice more, and then a woman cried out in pain. A different, more powerful gun shot off.

"_I said 'cease fire', goddamnit!"_ the man's voice called out again. _"There's __**kids**__ out here!"_

Finally, the world went quiet. Even Hero stopped shooting. She briefly grabbed the railing and then collapsed on the floor. Johnny quickly grabbed her limp little body and carried her back inside. His heart was racing and his bowels felt loose. He'd never been so terrified. She was breathing, but unresponsive. Had they been shooting at her? She didn't appear hurt. But why wasn't she waking up? How could he get her to a hospital? Would Summers' team even _let_ him leave? Would they really kill them to lure Honor out?

Becca and Ollie were crying, which didn't help his trembling hands at all. But he sat with Hero, stroking her face and then tapping it until finally she grabbed his hand and opened her pretty purple eyes. The other two grabbed her, babbling about how Belle had left them. Hero just looked at them, and then she looked at Johnny. It was the same, expressionless look Honor use to give him. He didn't think he'd ever know what happened, but there was no time to pry an explanation from her. They needed to move to an isolated part of the house: put their backs against the wall. He might be trapping them, but with three small children, he couldn't fight or run. Hiding – however badly – was his only option.

"We're going to Sissy's tower," he told them.

He carried the girls; Ollie walked nearby. They had to cross the entire length of the house, and as they were walking through the living room, they heard more gun fire. They all jumped, and then Becca started crying again. He moved a little more quickly into the tower and up the spiral stair case to Honor's room. He locked the door and, turning back to the kiddies, realized Hero has pissed herself. He couldn't really be angry with her, but Honor's room didn't have any clothes or rags to clean her with.

While he was distracted with cleaning Hero, Ollie went to Honor's phone beside the bed and picked it up.

"Hiya. I need help, please…. Olivier Jean-Luc LeBeau."

Johnny stopped tending Hero and turned around. "Boy, who are you talking to?"

Ollie held the phone up, and Johnny had to fetch it from him. It was a rotary landline with a cord and everything. They weren't stylish, but Johnny happened to know they were more secure. They could still be tapped, of course, but it required hardware interference. The cordless phones and cell phones only required a toy walkie-talkie to hack.

"Hello?"

"Who is this?" a woman asked.

"Johnny Sanchez; who is this?"

"You may call me 'Mystique'."

.::.

Beauty and the Beast. That's what people use to call them behind their backs. And it was true, although not in the way they thought. Truth was - _Emma_ was the beast. But she had never been unkind to Hank. Perhaps she was intimidated by his appearance or intellect, or maybe he just wasn't used to beautiful women being comfortable around him. Whatever the reason, Emma had just never offended him the way she offended everyone else. He had been a little bothered by her quickness to replace Jean in _every_ sense, but that wasn't personal. He was one of the few who supported her marriage to Scott and her role as Headmistress and co-leader. And he knew that when he'd been ransomed, tortured, and abandoned by the man he regarded as a brother, Emma fought for his release. The resulting fracture between Cyclops and Beast had strained but not destroyed their friendship. He didn't realize how fond he truly was of her – the White Queen. _No one_ knew until he flew out to San Francisco, evicted Dr. Rao from her own laboratory and spent pain-staking hours reassembling Emma's diamond remains when even Scott had abandoned hope. And to what end? Did he _truly_ expect to revive her?

.::.

Lila Cheney had spent more of her life in _space_ than she had on earth. It began when she was a child – long before puberty – when she'd unknowingly teleport herself across galaxies. As far as she knew, she was the only person in the history of existence with such ability. Not surprising, then, that people wanted to control her. They wanted her _power_. She'd always managed to keep one (or two) steps ahead of those people. So how Remy LeBeau, also known as Gambit, managed to track her to Alabama was a mystery. The _only_ person who knew she'd be there was Sam Guthrie, and he _swore_ he hadn't told a soul. Even though she'd withdrawn her love from Sam, she could never recant her trust. He wasn't a liar. After Sam left her and just moments before she planned to leave earth forever, a man approached her. He was an acquaintance, but he'd helped her in the past. She owed him. He said he needed the help of the Shi'ar and she was his only hope for reaching them. He said he'd throw himself into the ocean unless she helped. He was extremely weak; she wasn't sure he'd survive the trip. And once they implored the help of the Shi'ar medical realm, he again faced death and worse. Knowing that she might be the last person to see him alive, she began to value him. For the first time, she asked him about his troubles. He told her a heart-wrenching story about his little girl, Honor. She was a precog: one of the rarest and most covenanted mutants. Everyone wanted to own and control them, and finally, someone caught her. He nearly died in the mission to retrieve her. The only way to save his life was to administer an elixir which extended his life into near immortality. Unfortunately, the elixir also made him insane, and he tried to kill the child he once died for. The Shi'ar agreed to strip his insanity, but this had a price, too. The treatment could erase his memories. As he began the long and painful process to cleanse his soul of the Death parasite living in him, it became obvious that he would indeed lose his memories. He shared things with Lila that he'd never told anyone so she could record them. So he might remember the things he held dearest to his heart…

He told her his regrets and sins; the things he'd done for survival. He told her about his unstable health, and the trouble it caused. He told her about his work contacts and the women he'd loved. But mostly, he talked about his kids. Honor, the oldest, tried teaching him how to play piano. She was extremely good at it, and he hoped she made a career with it. When she was twelve, her powers almost overwhelmed her to the point of death. He held her while she withered away, and pleaded with God to spare her life. Even at death's doorstep, she'd been at peace. It was one of his most cherished memories… Ollie and Becca were conceived and carried together. The pregnancy had been very dangerous, and they were born prematurely. Witnessing their birth, he said, was like watching the sun rise. There was nothing to compare it to. And the first time he held them, he felt a piece of himself had died and been re-born… The three of them couldn't be more different, he told her. They all _looked_ different – Honor had strawberry-blond hair and ghostly white skin; the twins looked more alike with chocolate hair, freckles and jade eyes, but Ollie's hair was finer and Becca had curls. But their personalities were remarkably different, too. Honor placed herself outside this world, like a spirit walking through but seeing so much that others couldn't. Ollie couldn't walk into a room without making friends and breaking hearts. Becca liked to stand back and observe. The only time she spoke up was when she was playing peace-maker: a role no _toddler_ should have to carry. There had been another baby, too, but he was born dead. Remy didn't know what he would've looked like or what his personality would've been. He was at peace with it now, but the loss had been hard. The whole family fell into mourning and he felt it was his duty to carry them. He'd failed them all, but his wife took it the worst; she completely shut him out. She'd finally pulled herself together and he continued to support her. He never told her how he blamed himself for the loss; how he felt to watch his family suffering, unable to help _any_ of them. It was his job to protect them, so he wouldn't put them through that misery again; even if it meant dying alone in the wilderness.

Remy bled his secrets dry to Lila.

By the end of the treatment, all he remembered was Lila. She told him about his children, but they were just names to him. She tried, but she couldn't make him remember his love. She couldn't _force_ him to love them, either. He wasn't interested in going back – he wanted to move forward. He built his world around the only building block he had: Lila. At first, she resisted. He had obligations: a wife, children, a father and a career. But if he wasn't going back, then he was moving forward. He'd made that decision himself; she wasn't responsible for that. The only thing she could do was follow her heart. She _did_ care about him, and she wanted to ensure his safety and comfort. She could easily see herself with him. He wasn't hard on the eyes or heart! They shared two days of blissful romance before his _wife_ finally caught up with him. Rogue was another distant acquaintance of Lila's. She patched a message through to Lila's Dyson Sphere: her secret base and launching pad to get across galaxies and back again. Rogue threatened to destroy the Sphere with her superhuman powers unless Lila met her there and took her to Remy. Luckily, Lila got the message. She'd spent too much time and money building that thing to lose it to a woman scorned!

Lila hadn't told Remy she was coming. She hadn't told Rogue about his new life, either, although the woman clearly knew. She looked at Lila down her nose with obvious distain. It must've been his psychic daughter who found him… Didn't really matter now. He would tell Rogue that he didn't want to return, and she would either leave him or drag him back anyway. Storm was with Rogue, and she was the only one of the pair to speak _with_ Lila rather than _at_ her.

"Thank you for all you have done, Lila," said Storm, "I cannot tell you how _dear_ he is to us."

_Likewise_, thought Lila, but not wanting to show her cards, she didn't answer. Instead, she carried them to the Shi'ar ship and led the way to the medical ward. Moments before she opened the metallic, automatic door to his room, she told them bluntly, "He won't remember who you are."

Rogue rushed past Lila to Remy. He didn't know who she was, but it didn't matter; just like it hadn't mattered the first time he saw her. It was love at first sight, always. Rogue embraced him and kissed his mouth, and his whole face lit up. His hands knew their way around her waist, and made their home there. Everything about his demur said, _'Lila Who?_' He seemed to find his center in Rogue. And although Lila tried not to take the rejection personally, it still stung. She'd expected _some_ sort of resistance from him!

"Remy, Ah'm sorry Ah couldn't help you-"

"Anna… Lila told me what happened… Why would y' help me?"

"Because Ah love you, ya dope."

Storm kept a respectful distance but finally spoke: "Pardon the interruption, but our presence is desperately needed on earth. Gambit, I trust you remember how your powers work? Fire where we indicate and we shall explain the details later. Now is not the time for words."

.::.

It was almost dawn before Vaughn fell asleep. I wandered off into the night, where I knew I'd find an abandoned pump. The water was cold and red with rust, but I used it to wash the smelliest parts of my body. My arms pits smelled even while I cleaned them, my feet burned and itched no matter how wet or dry they were, and my crotch wrecked of urine. I washed my uniform out, too, and laid it on the ground to finish drying. I wore only my pea coat, which barely covered my ass. I was rinsing my raw hands one final time when Vaughn found me. I saw a familiar glare in his eyes and pulled my switchblade from my boot. I was bare-footed, so the action wasn't unnoticed.

He smiled. "Love it when dey play hard t' get."

I gave him a warning look.

"Got some clothes back at de trailer, if y' need somet'ing more t' wear. Ain't no chick stuff, but it's somet'ing… Hey, if you wanna take your chances out dere in your skinnies, go ahead. 'Least you know m' name." He turned his back on me and walked towards the trailer.

I took a deep, shaky breath, and followed him at a safe distance. Eventually, we had to enter close quarters in the trailer, but I never turned my back to him. I put on his smallest pair of jeans and an undershirt. Of course, the outfit was too big and ill-fitting, but thanks to my enormous body, I didn't look like a complete clown.

"Could you get me to a phone?" I asked him.

"_Oui_," he opened up a box of Cheese-It's for breakfast. He didn't offer to share. "But first y' gonna tell me how y' ended up out here. I ain't getting' in t' shit wit' de Guild over you."

I laughed and crossed my arms. If he were trying to shame me into giving him information, he had a lot to learn… "Yeah, let's talk about that. 'Shit with the Guild.' You must think I'm a pretty lame psychic. Or maybe you just think I'm too nice to _blackmail_ you. But I know _Clayton_ wasn't the one holding that night you guys got busted. He took the fall and did the time _for_ you. Because your whole clan's banking on the hope that _you'll_ get into my pants. I wouldn't fuck you if you were the _last_ person on earth! Your family's on the brink of extinction. All you've got to offer is your _company_, and you're a total ass! Your father couldn't find you a respectable bride if his life _depended_ on it! The _only_ way you'll _ever_ get a girl is by _lying_ to her and _begging_ her to accept you on your _hands_ and _knees_! And you _really_ think you could _seduce_ me?" I had the feeling I'd regret these words, but my pride was carrying me away. "I asked nicely, and now I'm taking your truck."

I turned to leave, and he grabbed my arm to stop me. I swung around and clocked his jaw. He went down like a sack of potatoes, stunned; I could've made my break. But I just couldn't leave him like that – not after he'd nursed me back to health.

I bent over him. "Vaughn-"

He kicked my stomach and I joined him on the floor: two helpless roaches who'd mortally wounded each other. Once I caught my breath again, I laughed at us. I know it pissed him off even more, but I couldn't help it. We really did look pretty stupid.

"You're such a _bitch_!" He snarled, sitting up and working his jaw. I guess it wasn't broken, after all. "I'll take you t' a phone, and den I don't ever wanna see your fuckin' face again! _Fuckin' lesbian __**bitch**__!"_

"_Manners_, Daumier," I said, gathering myself with as much grace as I could.

He delivered me to a payphone as promised and then peeled away, but he wasn't going far: just around the corner to a liquor store. He meant to frighten me, but at the same time, wanted to protect me. He planned to leave me for half an hour or so – long enough for me to think he'd really left – and then circle back to pick me up. It was sort of sweet, in his own, twisted way.

I called home but the line was dead. My stomach dropped. Next I called Renegade, who was hiding with Mama Sanchez in Mexico. When she answered, I breathed a sigh of relief.

((Hello, Mama Sanchez.))

((Oh, Honorita! My sweet little angel, where are you? Your brother shows up with his friend and they're both filthy and underfed! What is the matter with you kids? This is no way to live! Where are your parents?))

((I know, I'm very sorry, Mama. I'm on my way to pick him up now. May I speak with him?))

((You're coming here? Now? But I have laundry and dishes and-!))

((Mama! I don't have a lot of time! May I _please_ speak with my brother?))

A few moments later, he knew he was picking up the receiver and shouted: "What happened at the house?"

He flinched. "I don't know, 'On. Line's been dead for a few days. Where are you? Jesus, Tess said you were _dead_!"

"I know, I'm sorry. I'm okay. In Texas. Did you send Tante Ro something good?"

His pause was chilling. "Yeah, sis. I make it look good… So what's next?"

"I'm going home. I want you to stay low for a little while longer. You'll either hear from me or Momma in the next few days."

"You know Summers will be waiting for you dere."

"What choice do I have? Besides, what's the _worst_ he can do?"

"'On… you killed Emma. I wouldn't push my luck if I were you. 'Sides, you know Logan's on his dog team, and Wolverine won't let 'm hurt de kiddies." He was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince me.

What I said next surprised even me. "Cyclops knows. That's why he put Wolverine on the team to track me. He's got no idea that Summers wants me dead." _Dead?_ "I've gotta go," I said and quickly hung up. Now that I'd opened that door, I knew more than I wanted to. I could see Logan. He was very close; had been tracking me for days. The train threw him off, but now he was just blocks away. I felt like I was in the ocean and he was a shark closing in on me. He could smell my fear like blood in the water.

As quickly as I could, I ran towards the liquor store Vaughn was robbing. His truck was parked down the street and around the corner, so I hot-wired the old piece of junk and doubled back to pick him up. The front tires jumped the curb and I laid on the horn, not caring that the clerk could clearly see my face. The bottom half of Vaughn's face was hidden by a black bandana. He held a gun to the Hindu man behind the counter, who was scooping money into a paper bag. His yellow eyes looked surprised to see me, but he'd gotten enough money to justify the work. So he left the rest and ran outside, leaping into the passenger's seat. As I raced off, he removed his mask and grinned.

"Hot damn! A damsel who rescues _me_!"

I flew down the street, well over the speed limit.

"Might wanna slow down, _chere_," Vaughn said. "Dey'll catch us wit' us soon enough. Don't need t' go wavin' a flag."

I slowed down while approaching a red light and realized Logan had me. From my Inner eye, I could see him running from a side alley like a tiger.

"Shit!" I screamed, punching the gas. Too late.

Something heavy slammed on the roof and Vaughn fell to the floor board. Three adamantium blades pierced the truck's roof like a tuna can lid. He tore away at the thin layer of metal like tissue paper.

"Shitshitshitshitshitshit!"

"What de _fuck_?" Vaughn yelled and unloaded an entire clip at the roof.

I heard Logan take every bullet. To keep him from falling in the bed, I had to make a sharp left turn. The truck went on two wheels and almost collided with on-coming traffic. Logan fell into the road and I felt my back tire run over him. I'd never hit _anything_ with a car before, not even a squirrel. Logan was a mentor of mine, and godfather to my little brother and sister. Hurting Emma was one thing – she'd betrayed me and been in my way. But Logan was my friend. Summers sent him after me to distract him, but Logan agreed to do it because he felt responsible for my welfare. He was just as pissed at me as the rest of the X-Men, but he wouldn't _hurt_ me. He didn't have it in him.

I didn't stop or slow down, but I started hitting the steering wheel and screaming. Vaughn yelling profanities at me didn't help my hysteria.

Three blocks later, blue lights showed up.

"Fuck, 'On! _Fuck!_" Vaughn gripped his hair and I saw his yellow eyes darken with excitement. He took three deep breaths and said: "Take the interstate! Go!"

I followed his direction, driving out of the city. The police cars multiplied until every unit in the city was on our tail. We were headed east, towards New Orleans, but I knew they'd have a barricade long before we reached the state border. Sure enough, the interstate emptied of civilian vehicles until we were the only car left. As we cross a bridge over the Neches River, I saw blue lights awaiting us at the crest. I slowed down, but Vaughn pushed me on.

"Faster! _Go!"_ His yellow eyes bore into mine. "Trust me!"

What choice did I have? I'd gone down a path from which I could not turn back. Again, I punched the accelerator. The cars behind us slowed, giving enough berth so that the cops wouldn't be shooting each other if they had to open fire. They had us trapped. Vaughn told me to crash into the railing, so I did. We didn't immediately plummet to our watery graves; bridges are designed to offer _some_ protection. Still, the cops were scared. So was I. The protection of aluminum and rebar had been torn away, leaving a hole in the side of the bridge. I felt death closing in very close.

"Trust me," he said again before hitting my mouth with the butt of his gun.

My lip busted open on a tooth, making my mouth appear much bloodier than it was. Before I could even guess at his motives, he pulled me out of the truck by my hair and put his gun to my temple.

"Get back!" he warned the cops while they edged closer with their guns drawn. Unlike Vaughn, their weapons still had ammo.

"Let 'er go, son."

"Drop the weapon!"

But they knew if they fired on him, they risked shooting me. We could both fall into the river. And we looked too close to eighteen to be adults…

Finally, Vaughn hurled me at the cops and ran off the bridge, falling with weightless limbs into the water several stories below. They descended on me with their eager guns and heavy knees and flimsy handcuffs, slapping a pair on me while they contacted the port security to pick him up. They didn't care that they might be picking up his _corpse_. Cops are total ass-holes because they're afraid of their compassion being used against them. Little known secret: their apathy can be used against them, too. Vaughn busted my lip and held a gun to my head. For all they knew, I was an injured hostage. But they would take me to the station and not to a doctor. Once they discovered I was a minor, any charges they had would be downgraded. And my parents could afford a lawyer who'd make me look like an innocent hostage, doubly victimized by the police department. We might even make a buck off it. It was the only way he could help me… The only way he could help _himself_ was to run until they filled him full of lead. It'd be juvie and then federal prison for him. Or a grave.

The cops put me in the back seat and buckled me in. Two officers got in the front seat and raced downtown with me while the other units went down to the river bank to fish out the body of my friend. They didn't even _care_.

Once we'd left the bridge and pack of police cars, I easily undid the cuffs and then leaded forward to the thick plastic separating the cops from me.

"Hey," I said. "You guys know why you shouldn't put the cuffs behind my back?... Because you never know when I've taken 'm off…" I slid my hands up to the plastic and charged it. The explosion nearly blew the car in half. The damaged vehicle slowed to a stop and veered into a ditch. Both officers had stupidly looked _at_ me while I warned them, and took a heavy hit for it. I climbed into the front seat, picked up the radio and said, "We've got an officer down! Taking heavy fire! Please send back up!" Then I stole both their guns and the extra clips and climbed out of the ditch into the road.

An eighteen wheeler was headed towards me. I flagged him down, and seeing me bloody and torn and the back-end of a car tipped over in a ditch, the driver stopped. He was an elderly black man with grey hair who was from Mississippi and smelled strongly of cigarettes. I felt very guilty for pulling a gun on him, but I didn't have time to _charm_ his cargo out of him…

"Nothin' personal, _homme_, but I'm commandeerin' dese wheels."

Meanwhile, Vaughn had survived his fall into the river. He was nearly unconscious when the harbor security pulled him from the water; it was a miracle he didn't drown. Paramedics were waiting on the shore with half a squadron of police cars – noticeably thinned out since my may-day call – and they all descended on Vaughn the moment the speed boat docked. He kicked at the paramedics and swung at the cops. Deciding he was strong enough to survive the trip to jail (since he was well enough to resist arrest); they quickly cuffed him and threw him in the backseat. But now that the hard part was over, there was no more urgency in their business. While Vaughn was dripping wet, the cops congratulated each other and inquired after the "downed" officers.

"We found Mackey and Peagler," Vaughn heard one of the officers say after he was secured in the cruiser. A group of uniforms were holding a road-side conference just a few feet from his car. "The girl had some sort of bomb, melted their damn faces off! She hijacked a semi. We think she's headed towards New Orleans, the driver said she had an accent…"

"Jesus… Let me get this prick finger-printed so you guys can patrol the border. I hope Louisiana throws the damn spikes at her! Ever seen an eighteen-wheeler flip?"

Two hefty cops got into the car, laughing and teasing Vaughn about his "girlfriend" getting flattened like a pancake. He was already out of his cuffs, although he might not have another chance to escape until they reached the station. Pretending to still be bound, he hovered on the verge of sleep. Dark spots jumped around his eyes, followed by blinding sparks. He wouldn't make it to the station…

Thanks again to my psychic abilities, I was able to perfectly time my interception of Vaughn's police carrier. The cops were already looking for me, but they were looking on roads leading to Louisiana. I was headed to the station – same as them. When Vaughn's carrier passed through a blind intersection, I ran the red light and slammed that little Crown Vic with the hungry grill of my semi. The car shattered like a porcelain toy on the street, spilling all of its insides out. From the wreckage, Vaughn stumbled and staggered towards me. In a hurry, I blew away the passenger door in a flurry of neon blue bolts. He weakly pulled himself up and I didn't wait for him to get fully seated before racing away.

How many cops had I maimed today? They'd probably make me a federal fugitive if they didn't _kill_ me first.

"LeBeau… Where we gonna hide?" he asked, as if he could sense my hopelessness.

I quickly checked as many options as I could – road, trains, borders, and even the harbor. Between the cops and Wolverine on my tail (yes, he'd walked away from his injuries before the ambulance even arrived), I would have to move and _keep_ moving briskly. I didn't know how long I could keep running, but I had to keep trying. So Vaughn and I quickly ditched the semi and took a city bus heading west. From the bus's final stop, we stole a car and drove it southwest towards Mexico. We didn't keep that vehicle long, though, and soon exchanged it for another. By now, we were out of Beaumont and the heat had worn off. _Worn off_, but not died. Our descriptions were broadcasted across television screens and radio waves; they called us _terrorists_. We dodged the law by hiding in bad neighborhoods, moving frequently and changing modes of transportation often. But I noticed that every time Vaughn had to move, he did so slower and slower. Sometimes while riding, he'd completely pass out. I tried keeping him awake with conversation, but I needed my concentration to avoid getting caught again. At one point, I put a hand to his face. He felt clammy and his breathing was shallow.

"Don't die on me," I told him, hoping I was overreacting.

He took a ragged breath. "Just… need t'… s'eep…"

"No, no, you can't sleep. I'm workin' over time here. Who's gonna get me my drugs?"

He smiled weakly and I noticed he'd started shivering. If we stopped or slowed down, there was a _good_ chance someone would catch up to us. I desperately wanted to keep running. On the other hand, I needed a break just as badly as he did. I knew what would happen if I kept pushing myself, and this time, he wouldn't be able to help me. Besides, he needed some medical attention. I was afraid he'd suffered a concussion from his fall, and the longer he'd been wet and in the open air, the more his body temperature continued to drop. I needed to find him some dry cloths and a warm spot before his body couldn't move anymore. It was ridiculous, really. We were in a southern Texas summer, and he was freezing to death! At least, I hoped it was hypothermia. That, I could handle. A concussion? Not so much.

I went to an isolated campground near Alamo, and while he waited in our stolen car, I acquired a sleeping bag, a bottle of water, and a bag of Oreo's from an RV parked nearby. Then I drove us a few miles away and set up camp. It was dark as hell – not a city light within sight. The trees protected us, but also hide us from any moonlight or starlight that might've helped us see. I lit a fire to help Vaughn warm up, but it only attracted bugs and gave away our position. Wolverine only needed to be in _Texas_ to find us now… And I wouldn't know it until he leapt from the shadows and had me. I think it's the scariest thing in the world – not knowing. I didn't know where my father was or if he was safe… I didn't know what Summers would do with my family to find me… I didn't know where I should go once the sun came up or what would happen to me… Luckily, I had Vaughn. He served as a nice distraction. Rather than worry endlessly about my family, I paid close attention to his pupils and temperature and pulse. The fire and warm air didn't help him at all; the cold was in his bones. I'm by no means a doctor or a healer, but I think the shock of hitting the water weakened him so badly that he simply _couldn't_ recover.

I pulled his shirt and shoes and socks off.

"Dis de part where y' rob me blind?" he asked humorlessly.

I opened the sleeping bag and draped it around his shoulders before pulling off his wet jeans and boxers. He didn't protest and I made sure to keep my eyes down. I don't know why I bothered to show him respect when he never hesitated to catch me nude. Then I sat behind him, wrapped my arms around him and rubbed his body to generate some warmth. His skin was frighteningly cold to the touch. I rested my face against his bare neck and could feel the cold and heat _literally_ battling for dominance over the other's skin. I kept rubbing his arms, determined to win. Suddenly, I had an idea.

"You know," I said, "I was just thinking about the first time I made love to a woman… We were both soaking wet like you are now… She took me to this little cave," I couldn't help but giggle. "I remember she asked me, 'You know _why_ we're going, don't you?' And I thought, 'Of course I do! Because all the _bigger_ lesbians have the locker rooms!'"

He laughed a little and I noticed the blood rising to his skin. That was the whole point: get his heart racing.

"First girl I ever banged," he said with a loop-sided grin, "was at a Bible summer camp. Knew I'd never see her again, which is why I did it. That way, if I sucked, no one would know."

I tried not to laugh and failed. "That is _awful!"_

"I _wasn't_, by de way. She was rubbish, t'ough."

"I really _don't_ care."

"She screamed a lot. Made de rafters shake. Why you chicks do dat?"

"_I_ don't do that!"

"And I t'ink she just mimicked de t'ings she'd seen in pornos-"

"Oh!" I rolled my eyes, "I _hate_ it when they do that! You know, you _don't_ have sex with random pizza delivery boys… Fake tits aren't _that_ common… Why would they think _anything_ from a dirty movie would translate well in _real_ life?"

"I didn't t'ink you chicks had pubs until I saw a naked girl in real life… Thought dere was somethin' wrong wit' her!"

We both shook with laughter, our bodies bouncing off each other. Then we fell into silence again, the only sound in the world was my hands rubbing the blanket over his arms and shoulders. The fire crackled as it ate the wood and popped when a curious moth got too close. Further in the distance, we could hear crickets and coyotes. I strained to hear Logan's footfalls closing in, and when I failed to hear anything other than birds and bats, I comforted myself with the sounds. When he closed it, the world would fall deadly silent. That was his only hint.

"Hey, 'On?" Vaughn said, half asleep. "I'm real sorry 'bout throwin' you in dat well."

"I know, _cher_. You already apologized and I forgave you. You don't have to keep apologizin'."

He put a hand over mine, his fingers only luke-warm. "I love you so much, Honor... Sometimes it _hurts_. I don' care if y' never love me 'cause I've gotta dick… I love you wit' all my heart."

"Vaughn-"

But he was already asleep.

.

_To Be Continued…_

.

**Author's Notes:** "Kick" and "Rage" are upper drugs in the Marvel universe.

When Storm is thinking about past conversations with Gambit, the first one comes right from the comics. I think it's Uncanny X-Men #266, but don't quote me on that. The second flashback is mine.

Please don't think I'm glorifying Vaughn Daumier because I'm not. The best thing he can do is serve as a cautionary example. I loathe him, but he's a character I love to hate. He positively makes my skin crawl. He mentioned throwing Honor into a well… That happened when they were in the second grade. Vaughn and his late brother lured her into a forest and tried to bury her in an abandoned well (like the little girl from The Ring!). I mentioned it in this story, but like a million chapters ago, so here's the reminder.


	14. Meanwhile

**Disclaimer**: I do not own.

**The Ballad of Honor and Tess**

**Meanwhile**

_It's empty in the valley of your heart.  
The sun, it rises slowly as you walk  
Away from all the fears  
And all the faults you've left behind.  
The harvest left no food for you to eat.  
You cannibal, you meat-eater, you see,  
But I have seen the same  
I know the shame in your defeat._

But I will hold on hope,  
And I won't let you choke  
On the noose around your neck.  
And I'll find strength in pain  
And I will change my ways  
I'll know my name as it's called again

Cause I have other things to fill my time  
You take what is yours and I'll take mine.  
Now let me at the truth,  
Which will refresh my broken mind.  
So tie me to a post and block my ears  
I can see widows and orphans through my tears.  
I know my call despite my faults  
And despite my growing fears.

But I will hold on hope  
And I won't let you choke  
On the noose around your neck  
And I'll find strength in pain  
And I will change my ways  
I'll know my name as it's called again

So come out of your cave walking on your hands  
And see the world hanging upside down.  
You can understand dependence  
When you know the maker's land.

So make your siren's call  
And sing all you want,  
I will not hear what you have to say.  
'Cause I need freedom now  
And I need to know how  
To live my life as it's meant to be.

_~The Cave, Mumford & Sons_

Belle knew she was being trailed by the white-faced woman with a black eye like a Dalmatian. She had some superhuman ability and didn't require rest periods. Belle was in fantastic shape. She was more fit _now_ than she had been at eighteen, but she wasn't superhuman. She'd been on the run now for four hours. Damn LeBeau for building his house in the middle of Nowhere, New York! The sun was rising somewhere behind the trees, casting long and faded shadows that helped her find her way. She knew she was headed for the city, but she had no plans beyond that. Her legs cramped, and knowing she'd make them immobile if she kept pushing, stopped to catch her breath. She had no ammunition left, but was facing the possibility of a confrontation. She didn't even know what _sort_ of challenger she was facing. Nature held its breath in the final moments before the woman closed in. Belle felt a distant warmth approaching her from the rear and jumped to the right, but she didn't move quick enough. The woman threw her whole body at Belle, so that even though Belle was larger, she was thrown painfully to the ground. The black-eyed attacker moved her hands supernaturally fast, quickly securing Belle's hands. If she'd been pursuing anyone else, she would've been successful. But Belle didn't just _inherit_ leadership of the Assassins Guild – she'd had to _earn_ it. She grasped at her last possible hope – a free elbow – and slammed it into the woman's pretty face. Her head flew back as both hands lifted to her nose. Belle wiggled her hands free of the restraints, lifted herself up and tossed the woman to the ground. She reached for the woman's firearm, but the white-faced girl stopped her with a swift blow to the gut. Belle felt a blinding pain, which she knew would only subside on its own. So she pushed through the burn, grabbing the girl's head and slamming her knee into her pretty face. Superhuman or not, _that_ would slow her down! She let the girl fall to the ground and limped away as quickly as she could. The pain in her diaphragm threatened to swallow her. Already, her vision was slipping into white. The intensity was comparable to childbirth, but childbearing pains are acute and hit in waves. This pain was omnipresent and immortal. It was in her _bones_. She reached out a hand and leaned against a tree for support, weeping tears of hate for herself. Her children would _die_ for her failure.

The girl broke her concentration and Belle could hear her panting. Then, she spoke. "_Repeat?_ But I've almost got her!... Cannonball? Boomer? Come in…_Damnit!"_

…

Sam Guthrie watched the small faction inside the house mosey from one side to the other. The tower was more cut off than the master bedroom, and really only had one way in: a narrow, winding staircase which could be easily defended. _Defended_. This was getting out of hand; no wonder Wolverine refused the mission. Sam hadn't come to Poughkeepsie to terrorize a woman and her pups, but that's what the situation had turned into. The hitch started nine days ago when Gambit tried to kill his own daughter. Naturally, Cyclops had to contain the threat quickly and effectively, but little Honor didn't agree with his means. Gambit had gone astray and rather than back Cyclops in finding him, Honor retaliated. She destroyed Cerebra – Gambit's best chance at being found – and killed Emma for getting in her way. Scott blamed himself for not predicting this prior. When Honor was younger, she had a very curious bond with her father that was never fully explained. They often had the same, bizarre mood swings, and could sense each other's distress across great distances. As time progressed, the link seemed to settle into a father typical father-daughter bond. But this _folie á deux_ was proof of a shared mind. If Gambit was a threat, then so was Honor, and they were _both_ clever, mercurial and powerful. Actually, the whole clan was powerful, which was why Cyclops needed to cut Honor off from them. Isolating a teenaged supervillian (possibly out of her mind) from her family until she was _forced_ into a vulnerable position was a fine line between a felony and a rescue operation. That's why Sam was called in. He had all the skills needed to handle this situation, but unfortunately, he'd underestimated Belle's… _aggression_. What sort of mother leaves her daughter behind? Hero was _three-years-old_ with no father to speak of! It stood to reason Belle's place was with her child, but apparently, she had somewhere _else_ to be.

"Cannonball!" said Boomer, "The perimeter's been compromised!"

Sam lightly touched the communicator unit in his ear and responded: "By who?"

"Can't tell for sure, but I think it's-!" Her voice suddenly cut off.

"Boomer? _Boomer!"_ Nothing. "Domino, double back. We've been compromised."

"_Repeat?_ But I've almost got her!" Domino whispered with the strained breath following a battle.

"I said-!"

Sam was interrupted by a man's figure emerged from the house, carrying something in his arms. He didn't want to give away his position, but the man was alone and unarmed. Hoping to resolve the situation peacefully, he left the cover of the nearby forest and approached the man on the front lawn. As he stepped closer, he could see two children in the man's arms. They were limp. The burning, pink sun blinded Sam until he was within spitting distance of the man. He knew this guy – it was Johnny Sanchez, the pop singer. But Sam's attention was drawn instead to the sleeping children, twins Ollie and Becca. No, not sleeping. They were too still. There was no rise and fall of their little chests. All the color had been drained from their skin so that their freckles stood out like soot. And the right side of their temples bore bullet wounds, which had stopped bleeding.

_How?_

"Belle didn't want Cyclops to get them," said Johnny in a distant voice. "She said he would… I tried to stop her… Will you help me bury them?"

Sam felt sick. How could she do this? They were _children_ – just innocent children! If he'd known she was this unstable, he would've stormed the house instead of just surrounding it. No, he should've never come at all. The only reason she'd done this was because of _him_. He put a hand on Becca's arm. She was cold and stiff like meat in a supermarket. His heart dropped like a block of ice, sickening his stomach and making his head spin. How could he ever explain this to Gambit and Rogue?

"Sam?"

He turned and saw the very man he dreaded. When Gambit's eyes saw his children, Sam knew better than to speak. He didn't have to explain anything – the deed was done, the albatross was around his neck. No one spoke – but condemnation echoed through the silence. Sam knew he'd been responsible for the deaths of the innocents: he might as well have pulled the trigger himself. Like a dishonored Samurai, Sam fell to his knees. He closed his eyes, turning away from the horror of death and retreating inside himself where he was still a good man. The last thing he saw was a flash of pink.

…

There was a blast outside which startled the children from their sleep. Johnny hadn't dared shut his eyes, and quickly swept them all into his arms at the violent sound. Just when the guardian thought about playing brave to encourage them, they heard someone in the house. There were two people – strong and confident.

"_Bonjour_?" called out Remy's voice, but it sent chills down Johnny's spine.

Remy ascended the staircase and lingered on the threshold of Honor's room, watching his children cower in Johnny's arms. "Dat any way t' welcome your fat'er?"

"_You're_ not my Papa!" yelled Becca.

"Smart girl," he said with a menacing smirk. Then Remy melted into a woman with bright red hair, yellow eyes and blue skin. She was dressed in black combat gear with a pistol at her side and a blade on her thigh. She crotched down and smiled at the kids. "I know you don't remember me, children, but I am your Momma's momma. She told you to call me, didn't she? Sometimes she's smart like that."

Another woman entered the room. "Come on, Mystique, let's grab 'm and go!"

"No need to frighten them, Mastermind," said the blue woman patiently.

Ollie was the first to stand and Johnny let him go.

"That's it, my dove." Mystique put an arm around him. The girls approached her holding each other's hands. "You've grown so much! It's hard for an old crone like me to keep up with the time! Why don't we go back to my house and play video games? You don't look like you're having fun here."

.::.

The room was dark and warm. Even though Charles lay under several layers of blankets, he complained constantly of being cold. He was no novice to the symptoms of death; he knew it was coming for him. But he refused to let the cold have his bones, and so he continued to ask for warmth. Moira continued to oblige him. Sadly, his most beloved on this earth were mutants, and vulnerable to the virus which was destroying his flesh. Charles put up a noble fight. He was extremely determined and strong-willed for one his age. In fact, Moira had never seen anyone hold off the effects for so long… But she should have expected nothing less from the legendary founder of the X-Men. Brilliant, kind-hearted Charles Xavier had given everything he had for his dream of a peaceful existence between mutants and humans. Every peak into the future or an alternate reality proved his dream fruitless, but that had never discouraged him. Moira still believed in it, too. Maybe it was the _hope_ that helped keep his dream alive…

"Moira…" he croaked. His voice faded in and out like a distant radio station.

She grabbed his hand, the metal and flesh ebbing under her own soft, warm hands. "I'm here, Charles."

"Do you think…" He swallowed and licked his lips, trying in vain to find moisture for his throat. "…I was wrong… To train children… for combat?"

"Nae, love. Nae, nae, nae. Ye were a lighthouse in the storm for them. They will be more lost than ye know without y'."

He found the strength to smile and grasp her hand. Somewhere very far off in the distance was a rumbling noise, like thunder. The skin between his eyes pulled together and he asked: "What was…?"

"Must be a storm comin'," Moira said indifferently. "Won't that be nice ta listen ta?"

He smiled contently at her.

Honestly, the sound he'd heard was a riot. His quarantined room was far enough underground to keep them safe. He'd never see a protester or hear their raised voices as they destroyed the nation island. The whole world seemed to be crumbling. The worse Charles got, the more Genosha fell into chaos. It began with an increase in mental and mutation instability. Then the island started sinking. Dark clouds rolled in and blocked out the sun for more than a week. Soon, the flora would all wither away. The world was going to hell in an Easter basket, but Moira worked hard to ensure Charles never knew what was happening. Here, in his last little haven, he was safe. Once he had passed, a black hole would open up and swallow all evidence of his life, and the world would resume its course.

Across the ocean, Cyclops raced towards the Blackbird. A distress call came from Genosha, and he had little time to spare if he could help anyone. He was in the hanger – the jet was actually within sight – when Kitty phased up through the floor and stopped him.

"Scott! Where're you going?"

"Not now, Kitty." He moved around her.

"Why aren't you responding to our calls?"

Pixie, Hellion, Magik and Moonstar were already aboard and waiting for him. The Genoshan people were suffering and dying, but so were his friends and family. He couldn't be everywhere at once, but Kitty deserved a chance to encumber him a little more. So he paused at the plank way and sighed, "What is it? Emma? …Gambit?"

She shook her head. "It's Sam… Someone put a metal spike through his head."

"Is he…?"

"Alive. But just barely. They were ambushed and the kids were taken. Johnny and Bella Donna are missing, too."

He sighed again, feeling heavier than ever. "I'll be in Genosha."

.::.

It was like waking from a deep dream, where slumber land is more real than reality. He half-remembered things from his old life, but before he could fully recall a name or face, the knowledge ran from him like water through his fingers. He grasped at them again, but picked up only dreams. Sometimes he only recalled things to the steady hum of Lila's voice, her voice narrating his thoughts until dreams, memories and imagination all mixed together to become his torment. He felt like a ghost, drinking parts of another man's life.

The first time he saw Anna, he loved her like a mortal loves an angel. He imagined what she would look like in his bed, and since a spirit knows the thoughts of men, she received him with a kiss. He was under her spell. When she beckoned him away, what choice did he have but to follow? She took him on a strange vessel (which he didn't know if he should recall or not), and said she was taking him home. She was patient and sweet with him, explaining things in great detail when his mind failed. As if striking a bargain, she consummated their reunion on the space craft. He discovered that his hands had never forgotten how to please her, and he anticipated her responses. There was something unseen in them that would always be bound together – through space and time and reincarnations.

Their companion, Storm, pressed him harder to _act_ as if he'd never lost his memories. She didn't supply him with answers or lose her patience, but she had no mind to wait for him, either. From the very instant she found him, she was pressing him the way he should've pressed himself. She readied him for a confrontation and told him a certain man had shattered his family. At first, his anger was one of selfish pride. He would destroy this man for daring to plot against him. But the closer he got to earth, and the more Anna spoke of their children, the more his anger grew and took root. The bitterness in his belly evolved into the blinding rage all parents feel when their child's been threatened – from the holiest deity to the lowest insect. His rage dwelled quietly inside him, waiting patiently for the chance to strike. Anyone standing near Summers was likely to feel the impact, too, but he didn't care. Let his retribution live in infinity.

.::.

Belle limped down a highway that never ended and only went one place – Manor LeBeau. She was completely exposed to whoever might be searching her out, but at this point, no longer cared. Her pursuers were distracted, which meant only trouble for Johnny and the children. With every ounce of her being, she wished to know what was happening at the house. Sometimes she wept with frustration, but there was nothing to do but press on. Press on and find Honor.

A black Sedan with heavily tinted windows appeared on the horizon and slowed as it approached Belle. The back door opened and Tess appeared.

"Would you care for a lift?" the young woman asked, as if she saw Belle passing this way every day.

"Gratef'ly obliged," she sighed and slid inside the back seat beside Tess. Only then did Belle realize how much she _stunk_.

Tess handed her a bottle of water. "I haven't heard from Honor since we left California almost a week ago. Thought she might've been in some trouble."

The girl wasn't being completely honest, and if Belle were wise, she would've done the same. But she was genuinely afraid for her health and her children's lives. If this was her final conversation, she wanted _someone_ to know the truth. Her children were scattered and lost. The ones left in her care, she had abandoned. Rogue last said she was headed to Genosha, not because she thought LeBeau was there, but because there was a machine which might locate him. Rogue was just as lost as LeBeau now… And Belle was this family's last hope. After her confessional finished, she asked Tess why she bothered to help. Her agreement with Honor was fulfilled.

"You were kind to me once," Tess replied without much kindness. "I suggest we return to my penthouse. Honor is unreachable, but I know someone who _isn't_."

.::.

When Magneto's vessel returned, Genosha had transformed into a hellish island. It was no longer a Utopia for mutants, but a breeding ground for chaos, destruction and despair. The master of magnetism took one sweeping look at the scene and boldly said: "Charles Xavier is close to death. His mind rages against those forces which seek to destroy it… As a result, we rage with him."

Storm looked disgusted. "Professor Xavier would _never_ inflict his suffering on others!"

The Blackbird shot overhead, striking them with a sonic boom.

Magneto shook his head and sighed. "There goes Junior. Once more, he's readied all his most prevalent weapons and aimed them at the wrong target."

"Dat's Summers," Remy said, "Then dat's where I'm goin'."

"Follow the sound of victorious trumpets," Magneto said dismissively. "I am going to Charles."

Only Rogue appeared to understand his words. She turned to him and said, "But he's dyin'… Ya could-"

"I no more intend to die than to allow Charles to die alone. Go. Your man is running away with his pride."

It was true; Storm and Gambit were leaving without her. She wasted no good-byes on Magneto, but flew after them. She lifted Remy by his arms, and the three of them quickly caught up with the X-Men. The entire island was in an uproar, but the most activity was in Jericho, the central city. People destroyed property and each other, and the billowing smoke that was drawing closer didn't frighten them at all. There was a fire raging uncontrolled, and if the looters remained in the city, they'd be trapped and consumed by flames. Cyclops was establishing a perimeter and delegating tasks as well as he could, since he no longer had Storm to kill the fire with rain or Emma to change the mass hysteria into something more manageable. Then he got a gift from Heaven. Dark clouds, heavy with rain, swept in and poured out their burden in sweet droplets. Most of the fire dwindled away, and although he couldn't see her yet, he knew who he had to thank for this favor. She should've never left in the first place! As an X-Man, she had a duty to the team and their wards _first_. He could understand Rogue running off (understand but not forgive), but Storm had more self-control. The fact that she'd returned meant she'd been successful in locating her brother by love. And _that_ was a crisis on its own.

He turned around just in time to watch Storm and Rogue land gracefully; Gambit rode comfortably in Rogue's hands. Cyclops could feel the steam gushing from his ears, but kept his voice even.

"Nice of you to finally join us. Considering how _slim_ our roster is."

"Then Ah reckon your _procedure's_ pretty accurate," said Rogue.

He smoldered a million words on his tongue and said instead, "Who did you come to _fight?_ Because I'm not available!"

The three of them exchanged quick glances, but he didn't have time to wait for an answer. He heard Hellion's telepathic voice echoing in his mind: '_These people are under some sort of influence… Not mind-control… Hormone control, maybe…'_

'_Can you handle it or not?'_

A pause. Then, _'Not telepathically.'_

"Alright, people!" Cyclops called, "We're doing this the old fashioned way! Hellion, create a containment shield around the city square! Moonstar, I want you to break this crowd up! Keep them from gathering! Pixie and Rogue will handle the stranglers! Gambit, Storm and Magik – find out what's making everyone go berserk! We'll hold the island together as long as we can, but-"

"It's Professor X!" Rogue snapped, hands on her hips. She was annoyed that he hadn't even bothered to ask if they knew anything, but then she remembered what she would be telling him and how the news would devastate him. Her face softened and she continued, "Magneto says he's fightin' with all his strength against the virus and it's affectin' everyone on the island."

Cyclops turned away and was silent for a moment. "People are dying out there!" he finally said, "Let's get the containment in place! You three," he turned to Gambit, Storm and Magik, "Fine out how long he has. We need to get the situation under control as soon as possible."

Rogue followed after Pixie without the slightest hesitation, although it broke her heart. Remy was headed the other way. After everything they'd been through, she didn't ever want him out of her sight again. Rogue and Pixie watched as the containment team quickly trapped everyone in the city's square, and then the younger girl said brightly, "I'll circle 'round once or twice and do my thing. Hopefully everyone has a good trip."

Rogue smiled. "Think Ah can handle the rest."

Meanwhile, Magik fled the chaos with Gambit and Storm. They had no idea where Professor Xavier was – other than Genosha – and their best chances of finding him would be away from the pandemonium. As they finally cleared the worst of the riots, Magik stopped and grabbed Gambit's arm.

"I can't work with you until I know the truth," she said. "Did you attack Sam?"

"Come again, _petite_?"

"I can deal with the truth, just tell me. Did you try to kill Cannonball?"

Gambit and Storm exchanged glances and Storm spoke: "I can assure you, we came directly from the Shi'ar outpost to Genosha. We heard the riot and came to lend our assistance. If Cannonball was harmed in some way, Gambit is not responsible."

Magik fidgeted. "Well, now I wish he _had_ hurt Sam… Gambit, someone's taken your kids."

He didn't appear to hear her.

"Gambit, someone's-"

"Why would anyone take m' babies? Dey weren't left unprotected, _non_?"

"No! No, of course not! Cyclops sent a team to watch them, but there was… something happened, I don't know all the details. Someone attacked Sam, made it look like you did it. And now the house is empty."

Gambit and Storm were both silent. Perhaps they were waiting for her to continue, but she had nothing more to say. Finally, she offered a weak apology, to which Storm responded.

"Who has been sent to find them?"

"I don't know if anyone has. We found out about it _literally_ as the jet was leaving California."

The two senior members looked at each other and Gambit seethed, "Important enough to '_protect'_, but not to fetch?"

"Rest assured, Cyclops would not frame you for the disappearance of your own children."

"_Oui_, he ain't dat _cunnin'_. But I know who is… We gotta get Anna."

Storm asked Magik, "Will you help us find our children?"

"But… what about Genosha?"

Storm's blue eyes faded into the white background. "Nothing brings a community together like a natural disaster."

The wind picked up and continued to gain momentum until people could no longer resist its pull. Loose objects like mopeds, trashcans and outside furniture flew past the people pressed against buildings or railings that they hoped would hold. The air heated, despite the heavy winds, and the dark clouds above circled around an invisible void. Lighting as thick as sky-scrapers streaked down in green, blue and purple bolts. It landed in deafening explosions, liquid fire blindingly bright as it slammed into light poles, buildings and roads, obliterating whatever it touched.

"_Charles Xavier is not the only one who can rage!"_ Storm cried; arms outstretched as she bent nature to her will.

"Better come wit' me, petite," Gambit took Magik in his arms and used the wind to blow him back towards Anna. He couldn't fly, of course, and the wind dropped them several times along the way. Eventually they reached the center of the storm, and the wind stopped carrying them and began resisting them. They gripped light poles, building sides and railings to help them along. It was like walking up a mountain side. Finally, Rogue noticed them. It was a blessed miracle; they could never have reached her like this, and she could never have heard them calling against the wind. With her superhuman strength, the wind was no trouble, and she easily carried them back to the Blackbird. Storm saw the jet elevate and (smothering her thirst for vengeance), flew off to join the escaping party.

"Where the hell are they going?" Scott hollered.

With Storm gone, the weather calmed again, but the rioters were more energized than ever. They were like bees whose nest had been destroyed, and their rage was focused on the attackers – the X-Men. The would-be heroes were scattered and down three key players, and they were quickly overwhelmed.

…

The knock, though soft and brief, startled Moira from her deep concentration. She thought she'd certainly misheard – no one knew how to get here or even had a reason to try. But there it was again! Now Charles was concerned, too, and she had no way of comforting him. If the riot had reached them, Charles would be deeply upset and most likely lose his fight. If it were a harmless passerby, they would most likely contract the virus and be condemned. The knock sounded again, this time more insistent. A voice, deep and muffled, spoke with confidence.

"If there is anyone able to open this door, I suggest you do so immediately. I know Charles Xavier is within, and I have come to make my peace. You have ten seconds to comply or I shall open the door myself."

"Mag… nus…" Charles sighed. "Stay… Away…"

"He dinnae want ye near 'im!" Moira called. "What the virus could do t' ye… Please, won't ye let 'im have this moment in _peace_?"

There was no response. Moira felt both relieved and remorseful. She turned back to Charles. He had the most serene expression on his face. He wasn't gone yet, but he was fighting anymore, either. Her heart welled up in her throat and her eyes filled with tears. She called his name and he turned his blue eyes towards her.

"Jean…"

Moira suddenly realized she wasn't alone. Turning her head so quickly she heard a crack, her eyes beheld the late Jean Grey, very much alive and well. The girl looked happier and more rested than Moira had seen her in a long, long time. She was long and lean, as always, and wearing her green Phoenix uniform with the gold embodiment above her chest and womb. Her skin was flawlessly white, like an angel's complexion would be – so pure it almost glowed. And her hair was the color of flame, wild and free around her tranquil face. She moved as slowly as silk through water, gracefully extending her hands to her former mentor.

"I'm not called that anymore," she told Charles. "I am _Hope_ now."

"You always… were…"

She smiled mercifully and leaned down to kiss his brow. As her flesh met his, the room faded away into the blinding purity of her complexion.

…

A female mutant with the ability to mentally cripple mobile objects had turned her sights towards Cyclops. Another assailant – a male with bones protruding from his hands – closed in. Cyclops wanted nothing more than to blast them away, but he couldn't do that knowing they were being _controlled_. He regretfully thought of Megan, and wondered what sort of person she would grow to be as an orphan. Just as the bony blade neared his neck, the world sighed in relief. The dark, smoky clouds parted and the rioters stopped in their tracks. The telepathic grip on his body lessened and finally, he broke free of its hold entirely. Turning around impatiently, he didn't see Storm or Magik, as he expected to. Instead, a walking torch flickered easily through the crowd. At first, people parted in silence for the fire. Then they dropped to their knees, some to their faces. He should've been alarmed, but he wasn't. He felt tranquility and certainty like he hadn't known since… Well, since before Jean died. There was a fire in his heart, a passion for sympathy which was entirely foreign to him. He knew it was the strange fire that had given him this gift, this love for the world. And he understood the desire to bow down, although he stood firm.

Then he saw the face of his love and his knees gave out, anyway.

"Scott… I have missed you…"

"Jeannie…"

"No, I am called Hope now."

He examined her more carefully and noticed that despite the uncanny resemblance, it wasn't Jean. This girl was younger than Jean was when she was killed. She looked like Jean had at sixteen, but her face had more freckles, her eyes were green instead of blue, and her body was too thin. Now that he looked for similarities and differences, he cursed himself for ever mistaking them. Jean had pierced ears and her eyes weren't so round and her hair was more auburn than copper … Had she been gone so long that her face was disappearing from his memory?

"The things you wanted with Jean Grey can never be," Hope continued. "I love you with a passion you can scare imagine, but I am mother to the world. I have too much to do. My heart belongs to this place, and there are many wrongs to be righted. Now… let's get started."

.::.

Tess escorted Belle to her penthouse in the City. It was _enormous_ with a view over Central Park. Having briefly rented an apartment in Manhattan, Belle knew exactly how much a place like this cost. Shaw paid _very_ well. It was hard to believe Tess had once been an Afghan orphan with no friends or hope. She'd been happy just to have a place in the LeBeau family, invited to dinner with them or included in their holidays. Three years ago, she followed Honor into hell; undergoing an artificial aging process that left her face scarred with tear-tracks, and traveling to the moon with no way to return. She had nothing to gain but bad memories and everything to lose. Her only motivation had been love for Honor, her only friend…

_Now?_

Belle hated to admit it, but Tess's loyalty and love were for sale. The price was high, but that didn't make it any more respectable. The girl was too _smart_ to prance around in stilettos. She was too _kind_ to expose her ass to anyone with eyes. She was too _young_ to harden her heart against the advances she must surely endure. Belle wanted nothing more to take her home, but Tess wasn't a puppy. Nor was she Belle's child. She was a tool to help Belle find her real children, just as Belle was a tool to help Tess in whatever she had to gain here. Belle wanted to think Tess truly was acting out of kindness, like she said… But she wasn't that naïve. At any rate, she kept her opinions to herself and accepted the help Tess provided. Water. A shower. Food. She offered a bed, too, but there was no time to rest.

"Renegade and Uriah are in Mexico with Johnny Sanchez's mother," Tess told her while picking up a video phone. "They were instructed to wait there until retrieved, so they'll undoubtedly be exhilarated to hear from you. Here."

Momma Sanchez answered and after a rushed greeting, passed the phone on to René. The Sanchez household phone didn't have a camera component, for which Belle was grateful. Otherwise, he would've seen her turn into a mess. She'd missed her children with a fury she'd never known, and it was _fury_ that kept her going. Hearing René's voice deflated her into a puddle of helpless longing. She was a _terrible_ mother for sending him into danger! And for letting Honor go, too. Her children's lives _weren't_ worth _LeBeau's_. Now Hero was alone with Johnny – who _may or may not_ even know how to fire a gun! And the twins, so trusting and sweet, would probably run to greet their _Oncle_ Logan: the Judas! There was _no_ doubt in her mind that he had led the siege. No one knew their habits and security measures better than Logan… except for Storm (who was _helping_ them). Belle hated the world – everyone had turned her back on her – and hearing her son's voice made her want to do something other than kill. So she wept.

"Momma, what's de matter?... Momma, please don't get upset… We'll find 'On, it'll be good."

"René, you such a good boy… Such a good brother… I love you, cher."

"I love you, too. Momma, please don't cry."

"We're gonna get you home, _fils_."

"I know. I gotta tell y' somet'ing, just in case. Sister's workin' on somet'ing 'sides getting' her father home. She asked me t' find Summers's personal files, get somet'ing t' make 'm look real bad. Told me t' make it if I had t'. I didn't have t' come up wit' nothin'. He had a plan for takin' out our whole family… She doesn't know, no way she could know. Trust me, Momma, if she knew, she'd kill 'm. But she asked me t' pass it on t' Storm, and I not so sure she ain't gonna do it 'stead."

The fury returned in spades. Shaking, Belle said, "Did it include surroundin' de house and cuttin' off our ties t' help?"

.::.

Johnny grew up on a dirt farm in the poorest part Mexico. His grandparents built a little shanty in the desert with their own two hands, and his parents lived next to them. After his grandparents died, Johnny's house looked like the only house in the whole world. There was nothing but dust in every direction, as far as his eye could see. He liked to get away from the tiny, over-crowded shanty, but he always feared getting lost in the wasteland. There was no one out there to help him. He imagined it would be easier getting lost in a forest – at least in a forest you could eat and drink things. But no. In a forest, you got confused. He was sure he'd been walking in a circle for days now. There was nothing to eat but tree bark. Actually, the _forest_ was eating _him_. He'd been stung four times already… More bug bites than he could count… Absolutely no water to drink… Maybe he should've stayed at Manor LeBeau, at least he had supplies there, but how long would it be until help arrived? And who had taken the children? Some blue woman claimed to be their grandmother, but he couldn't trust her. When he tried to follow her, she knocked his head so hard that he passed out. When he awoke, he immediately set out. He wanted to pick up the trail while there was still one to follow. Instead, he'd gotten hopelessly lost in the sea of trees that served as fortress and moat to the house. Now, as he neared death, he finally came to a clearing. _A house!_ And not the one he'd left, but a house with people and hopefully a telephone! Running water! He sprinted across the yard – oh, how wonderful it was to feel the sun and not vines and grass! He pounded on the door until a little girl in pig tails answered.

"Hello, honey," he said. "Are your parents home?"

"I know you," she said with excitement. "You're Johnny Sanchez!"

.::.

"Where is she, Forge?"

The man turned away from his work and with startled eyes turned to the two women entering his office. How they'd gotten in was a mystery, but not much of a surprise. Rogue and Storm were formidable alone and together, quite unstoppable. Still, the location of the X-Force Headquarters was top secret, with (supposedly) the best security in the world. What good was all their secrecy and offensive security if two members, however skilled, could slip through completely undetected? His pride prevented him from asking.

"Mystique," Storm said, crossing her arms. "Where is she?"

"I… What's she done now?"

"She's got my babies," Rogue said.

Neither woman looked very patient or quick to laugh at this joke. No, they were very serious. Forge's mind raced with possibilities. Had she hurt the children? Her hatred for Gambit was matched only by her love for Rogue, and there was no telling which emotion she'd attach to their children. But Mystique hadn't seen her daughter in years; why would she suddenly be after her grandchildren? Unless Rogue and Storm were themselves impostures, and Mystique was _protecting_ them… Insane as that probability sounded, it was _still_ a probability. Forge heard about Gambit attacking his own child and fleeing the scene. Perhaps this was another Golgotha scenario, and the insanity was contagious. He needed to buy himself some time until he had a better assessment of the situation.

"Why on earth would she take your children? Besides that, how-?"

"Sorry, sugah, Ah ain't got time ta socialize. Either you can give me what Ah came for, or Ah can make quick work of you like Ah did the rest of your squad."

"I'm sorry, Rogue, but I think you understand why I can't simply _hand her over!_ If the situation is what you claim, we can get to the bottom of this peacefully… Mystique couldn't harm them, remember? Cyclops has her under control with that microchip he installed."

Rogue snorted bitterly. "Hate ta burst your bubble, but Ah helped her get rid of that thing ages ago."

"Wha-"

"I'm sorry for the intrusion, Forge. Is everything under control?" Dante Secada, the head of security, interrupted. He was a large, burly man with board shoulders and a thick head of black hair. He was dressed in a crisp, navy blue suit as always, and smiled a little too easily.

Rogue turned to the man and put her hands on her hips. "Momma, Ah'm in _no_ mood for one of your _games_. Ya tell me where they are or Ah'll knock ya inta next week!"

"My darling girl, is that any way to thank the savior of your children?" Dante morphed into a slender woman with blue skin and red hair. Mystique was wearing the white kimono-style dress she favored and white boots. "Cyclops had them surrounded. He wasn't trying to keep them _warm_, either."

"Fine. Where are they now?"

"Safe."

"Ah'm takin' them home. If Ah have ta drain ya dry ta find'm-"

"I think we both know that won't work, dear. And then you'll just be stuck with my voice in your mind. What girl wants that? 'Rogue, finish your vegetables… Rogue, use a knife; it's quieter… Rogue, don't let that man touch you, he's a scoundrel'…"

"That's enough!" She snapped. "Let's go."

…

Why Mystique had taken _Hero_, who was not her grandchild, was something of a mystery. She wouldn't have cared if Hero died: she had no love for the girl. Rogue took comfort in knowing her _children_ had better hearts than that, and they would never have left her behind. In their young minds, Hero was as much their sister as Honor, so that's how they expected her to be treated. Thankfully, Mystique didn't discard their feelings, and it made Rogue light with relief to know all her kids had survived together. Ollie, Becca and Hero were hiding in plain sight at a rented house in Saybrook, Connecticut. It was the most normal looking place Rogue could've imagined – brick, three bedrooms, with a cracked driveway and flower bed that needed weeded. It even had a swing set in the back yard, which was where the kids were playing when Mystique-as-Dante pulled up the drive. They saw Rogue and Storm in the car and leapt off the swings, sprinting towards their mother. She knelt down and took them each in her arms, happier than she could've ever imagined having their warm little bodies near her again. Becca, who smelled like cinnamon and sunshine, and was the taller one. Ollie smelled like wet dirt and grass, and was the stronger of the pair. Rogue knew every freckle on their faces, which echoed loudly of their father but with her eyes and expressions. Their harmonious voices rattled in her ears simultaneously, telling alternate stories of the same events, but all she really heard was that they were happy and well-fed.

"Mrs. LeBeau?"

Rogue looked up and saw Lena, their Russian nanny, standing on the porch. Knowing she'd been with them made Rogue's heart break with joy; and for the first time in years, she was grateful for her mother. Who else could've done all this? But Mystique refused to hear her gratitude. In fact, she refused to even acknowledge that she'd done anything, maintaining her Dante Secada façade throughout the entire reunion. Rogue could only pierce her heart by saying how sad it was that Renie had never met her children, and she wondered aloud if she'd ever seen them in her vision. Dante's eyes softened and moistened, but he claimed not to know anyone named Irene. He drove them all to the train station and wished them well; the twins never guessing that Dante, their mysterious benefactor, was really their grandmother.

.::.

I woke up to the sound of my heart pounding in my chest. Logan was near. Too close to escape. So close I could hear him, which meant any second now he'd-

"Ain't you a sight?"

I gasped and leapt away from Vaughn, who was still sleeping nude inside a sleeping bag. As he slowly awoke, both our eyes settled on the stout Canadian with crossed arms and impatient eyes. I knew I couldn't outrun him, but that didn't mean I couldn't try. And I probably would've left Vaughn right where he was, too, if not for the figure behind my former mentor.

"Can I pretend I don't remember dis one?"

"_PAPA!"_ I ran and threw myself in his arms. As his arms closed around me, I rested my mind and body. Logan couldn't get me now!

…

After everything we'd gone through, I didn't think I would ever go home or see my family together again. My father and I rode a train from Texas to New York. It was the longest we'd been alone together, but we didn't talk much. We didn't need to. Being with him has always been like being with myself. We understand each other on a level beyond explanation, and as we sat in silence, I felt myself growing fonder of him. He didn't ask me why happened with Emma or Logan or why I destroyed Cerebra, although he must've known. Nor did he try to defend what he'd done to me or with Lila… Although he must've known I knew about that, too. It didn't matter what we'd done. Not to us. All that mattered was that we were safe and soon we'd be home. When our cab pulled up the drive, Rogue was waiting on the porch. Hero and the twins ran to us, and I actually cried at the sight of them. Ten days ago, I held Ethan and bid all my loved ones good-bye. Having them back meant more to me than all the victories in the world.

Momma, Uri and Renegade would arrive at the airport later that afternoon. I couldn't wait for them to come to me; I _insisted_ on meeting them there. Hero would want to come with me, of course, but no one else wanted to leave the house. In the end, my father took me himself. It was terribly selfish of me, I knew it even then. Rogue and Papa never wanted to part again, but there was no sense in everyone leaving and I wasn't old enough to drive that far by myself. And honestly, I wasn't even trying to get an early hug from my brother and mother. I'd missed them whole-heartedly, but that wasn't my reason for rushing to the airport… Tess had helped my mother after her escape from Domino; she even put her in contact with Renegade. When it was safe for him to return, she acquired Shaw's personal jet to help expedite the process. This meant, of course, that she would be on the plane with them. When my father relented and agreed to take me, all I saw was Tess. I had butterflies in my stomach the entire ride. Hero's nagging questions and Papa's sideways glances did nothing to distract my mind. I knew she still cared for me, but I also knew we couldn't be together. She had Shaw and her job. I had school and Giana and my family; they'd never forgive me for supporting the Hellfire Club. And I was so confused about what I wanted. I hated that girl – truly, deeply, insanely _hated_ her! But here I was, back where it seemed I _always_ was, trying to make amends with her. I felt like a fish following my instincts. There was only one thing for me to do, even when it meant swimming against the current.

From the airport lobby, I saw Shaw's sleek G-6 land gracefully. Hero and I pressed against the large, dense windows to be seen, and I'm sure her little heart was pounding just as hard as mine. The side door of the plane opened, the staircase landed, and after an infinite span of time, I finally saw Tess. But my heart didn't swell like it should have. In fact, it sank into a cold grave. And then the worst possible thing happened… I remembered Vaughn shivering in his sleeping bag. I remembered making him blush, and the way his shoulder felt under my chin. Stepping away from the window, my hands turned to fists and my face fell.

This was my _mother's_ doing! Her stupid love spell had ruined _everything!_

"I can't be here," I told Papa.

"_Catin.._?"

"Papa, take me home! I have to leave!"

"I'm sorry you're upset t' see Tess, but we didn't drive all dis way just t' turn around. T'ink how dat make your Momma feel."

"It isn't _Tess_," I hissed. Might as well tell him; it was the only way to save face. My mother would look the villain, but I didn't care. "It's Momma… When I was in Egypt with those boys, she put a spell on me to try and make me fall for Chaucer. But she doesn't know it didn't work that way. She accidently fixed Vaughn and me together instead."

"Vaughn… Daumier?"

"_Yes!_ And if Tess sees me now, she'll know _everything!_ But this _isn't_ how I really feel about her! Please! I can't-!"

"Take Hero to de wrong terminal," he said quickly. "I'll get Tess outta here. You come back after she's gone. _D'accord_?"

I nodded, no longer trusting my voice, and lied to distract my baby sister. Hero and I lingered around a terminal that was out of sight of Tess and my mother, and once my father removed Tess from the area, I returned with Hero. Words can't describe how terrible I felt. I wasn't stronger or wiser than Vaughn, I just wasn't as _lonely_. He was right – I'd gone to _him_ for a reason. He was a homeless vagabond who sold drugs and seduced virgins because they were the only ones stupid enough to fall for him. If I'd been any weaker, he would've kidnapped me when I went to him for help and raped me when he caught me bird-bathing in the desert. And _this_ was the man (no, not a man! He wasn't worth comparing to an _animal!_ He was the parasitic bacteria spread by maggots!) that my own _mother_ had planted in my heart! I would never forgive her this! **Never**.

Hero ran to my mother, yellow curls flying behind her. She received kisses and I watched René and my mother fawn over how much they'd missed her.

Uri hugged me; he'd lost weight in Mexico. ((You okay, girl?))

I smiled at him when I didn't think I'd ever smile again. ((Uriah, you speak Spanish now?))

((Eh. A little.))

"Honor Julien!" My mother's voice cried shrilly. "You ain't gonna welcome your kin?"

I looked at her, shaking with rage. For the first time in my life, I felt my eyes burn so hot that they glowed. I couldn't stand to _look_ at them! The witch and her pet! _René_ I could forgive; he felt like he owed Momma his life. _René_ never meant to hurt me. But my mother? Never! She and I were standing almost ten feet apart, but if I moved any closer, I thought I might strangle her. So I spoke loud enough for her to hear, and if anyone else heard, too, whatever.

"You put whatever spell on me you want to! I will _never_ forgive you! And I will _never_ love you again!" My voice started to break, so I turned and walked away.

Before I'd completely left the scene, I heard my father grab Momma's arm and tell her to fix this. Spells can be broken as easily as they're made, I know that. But I didn't want to break the spell because it would mean being in the same room as my mother and Vaughn. It meant acknowledging how the spell had affected me. I was more ashamed of my feelings for him than I could admit – even to myself. Unable to even look at her, I fled outside with as much dignity as I could muster. A small part of me thought Tess would be waiting outside with her getaway car, and we could drive off together. My fantasy was much better than facing the reality of what lay behind me, so I pressed on and stormed right out of the airport.

Tess was getting into the backside of her black Sedan.

Our eyes met and her face softened. She was torn between leaving – since that was clearly what we both wanted – and staying… Which we _also_ wanted. I stayed put. Finally, she stepped away from the car and shut the door.

"'On-"

"Tess-"

"I know. About Vaughn. It's okay."

"It doesn't _mean_ anything!"

"I know."

"I want…" I sighed, not knowing what I wanted, and lamely finished, "I want to apologize." Indeed, I had a lot to apologize for: not just for my family encumbering her, but for being back at this place. Last year, we broke up because I'd put a man who meant nothing before her. And now here we were again. Sure, the circumstances were different, but I couldn't blame her for getting impatient with me.

She came to me and took both my hands. "Honey, you didn't really think you were gonna come in here and sweep me off my feet, did you? After _everything_ we've just been through and everything you're going through right now… You really thought _this_ was the perfect time to talk to me?"

I shrugged. "Maybe. A little."

"I love you, babe, but you're a little bit of an idiot."

I was too hung up on the first part of her sentence to hear the last part. I wanted to kiss her. My eyes met hers and I noticed they were brighter than before.

"Go take care of things," she finally said. "It's okay. I understand."

I watched her get in her car and leave, but it wasn't the end of the world. Whether she meant to or not, she left me with a sense of peace.

I would need that mustard seed of comfort she provided to deal with my family. The war with the outside world was over, but the one at home had just begun. Apparently, my parents (who'd been arguing and shaking and shoving each other inside the airport) had been holding back their _real_ rage. It got so bad in the parking lot that I didn't think we'd ever make it home. Oh, they said all sorts of horrible things to each other… Momma accused Papa of brainwashing me, of lying about his cure, and still being a risk to the family. He accused her of using us like her pawns, when she was in a perfect state of mind. All the dark and decaying layers of their relationship got aired out in that parking lot. She blamed him for breaking her heart and all his promises; he said she was too selfish to ever work in _any_ relationship, and that's why she tried to keep me under her thumb. She said he was such a terrible person that his own father kept him away from me for eleven years. It was ugly. When I tried to intervene – I said they'd _both_ been crummy parents – they only stopped for a moment before leaping back into the ring. That's how I know they weren't really arguing about _me_. I knew Momma was intentionally pushing all his most sensitive buttons. She didn't believe he was completely cured and wanted to test him. I could've told her the truth, of course, but she knew I would've lied to protect him. I'd been doing it _this_ long. But my father had honest intentions about that fight – he really was _pissed_. I suppose Momma got her answer eventually. Or maybe it was the sight of us all in tears that convinced her to swallow her pride. Either way, she was the first to back down. By the time Papa cooled off enough to get in the car, I wanted to blow us all to kingdom come. It did cross my mind.

.::.

Things were not any better once we got home. If anything, it got worse. My parents were back at it. This time, they were trying to hurt each other out of revenge. Renegade, Hero and I ran inside and locked them out – for all the good it would do! Rogue went out to them and threw her voice into the shouting match. It made me feel sick to see them this way. My skin was cold, my nerves knotted and tense, and my stomach felt slimy. We'd all survived and were home again, but for what? So my parents could stand on the lawn and curse each other while my brothers and sisters cowered in fear? No, this wasn't what we'd fought so hard to obtain.

I grabbed three beaded necklaces from my room – fake onyx, jade and amber strands – and wrapped them around my left wrist. Then I stomped out to the front porch and pelted them with charged marbles, continuing my assault even after they shut up. Afterwards, I went back inside and busied myself with making dinner. Since Lena had been with the kiddies for so long, she was on leave, more or less. So I got the little ones to help René and me, too. I think people really underestimate small children. They want to help, and are more patient than adults. They did a _spectacular_ job as our little assistants. We had such a good time with it that we completely forgot about our stupid parents. They'd entered one by one while we were cooking, but disappeared without a word to any of us. I didn't really want to talk to them anyway. The cold presence of change was in the air, and it frightened me. They had something to say, I just knew it.

"You t'ink we should call dem?" Renegade asked me while we were setting the table.

My parents spared us from having to make that decision and came on their own accord. The jubilant atmosphere evaporated while we braced for another verbal didn't start shouting again. Instead, my father stood behind his usual seat at the end of the table, directly across from me, and spoke to the room at large.

"We've been pushed to our limits, all of us. And we've been pushed some more. It's a wonder we ain't broke yet, but we haven't and we ain't gonna break now. I'm… sorry for what I put ya'll t'rough. I don't deserve your forgiveness, so I ain't gonna ask for it. But I'm sorry all de same. If anyone feels like dey can't trust me enough to share my house anymore, I won't try t' stop you. On de other hand… I know dis family ain't complete wit'out everyone in dis room. If God took any _one_ of y' away, I know _I_ wouldn't be complete. And… dat's it."

"No one's going anywhere," I said, bursting with pride to have such a man for my father. He'd thrown himself on our mercy and at the same time, accepted us entirely. He hadn't asked for my mother and her children (who weren't his) to be a part of his life, but once they were, they always would be. He was the kindest, most generous man who ever lived.

There was relieved laughter and more tears as at last, we were home. Finally, we all put together the pieces of our stories… Renegade and I talked about our trip, assembling the team, and how we infiltrated the building. His story about stealing the files was interesting, but everyone waited with bated breath to hear how I escaped from Cerebra. This was the first anyone heard about Mr. Wagner still being alive; I hope it wasn't a mistake telling them. Rogue told us how she'd convinced Magneto to help her, and how wonderful it was to have Ethan's assistance. Momma and the kiddies were having a good time painting sun catchers until Johnny showed up. Papa said that after he and Rogue split up to fetch us kids, he contacted Kitty Pryde for a lead. She was the one who sent him after Logan, who was trailing me. Logan didn't want to _hurt_ me, but he wanted answers and he wasn't above scaring me to get them. It fit Cyclops's needs, too, by distracting Logan from the mess he was creating in my house. We talked until we were all hoarse, although we'd never have the complete picture. Logan and Tante Ro, who'd been pivotal players, had returned to the X-Men to "hear Cyclops's side" – whatever that meant! I had no interest in _hearing his version_. Honestly, I had no interest in _anything_ outside my home. Shamefully late, we realized someone was missing. Johnny. Before we could even begin an investigation, he turned up. On television.

"Johnny, why don't you tell us what happened, in your own words?" Anderson Cooper asked my godfather. They were speaking via satellite: Johnny was at his house in New York City and the Silver Fox was in a news studio.

"Scott Summers lied to me," Johnny said boldly, as a man with convictions. "He told me that my goddaughter was dead, knowing I would deliver the news to her mother in person. His reason for doing this was so his X-Force could-"

"Excuse me, Johnny, let me interrupt you if I could… By 'X-Force', you mean the illegal assassination team, which was dissembled last year?"

"Yes."

"You mean, it's still operating?"

"Yes, it never stopped. The X-Men just got better about covering it up."

My father started yelling at the television and we pushed him out, afraid he'd blow it up or that we'd miss something vital. I could practically smell the torches lighting as the mobs gathered once more.

"Alright, would you continue?" Anderson Cooper said.

"Once I was allowed into the house, the security alarm was disarmed, and X-Force surrounded us. There were three children and one woman on the property… not including myself, obviously."

"Why, do you think, he would send a team of trained killers after you?"

"I don't think they were after me. I think Summers was trying to get his teammate… Gambit… and when he couldn't, he went after his family instead. I think Summers is _still_ after him and his family. I'm afraid for their lives. They've been disappearing one by one, and that's just not like them."

"Why didn't you take these concerns to the police?"

"You think they could _stop_ him?" Johnny asked bitterly. "There's only _one_ force to police mutants, and Summers heads them _all_."

I know Johnny was desperate and only trying to help, but he'd just isolated us from _all_ of our allies. Not only did everyone know we were mutants and working for a dictator, but we'd also exposed the secret lives of the X-Men. No one wanted to be associated with us now, not humans **or** mutants. Immediately after the broadcast, we called him, but the damage was done. What should've been a happy reconciliation – however brief, as happiness is finite – turned into a restless night. Being restless, I tried to settle my spirit the best way I know how. In the dead of night, I grabbed my phone and dialed Tess, wanting nothing more than to hear the soft melody of her voice. She told me she knew I would call and laughed at me, which made me smile, too. We talked about everything that wasn't worth talking about. She must've been very lonely; she never indulges in idle chatter. I could've fallen asleep to the sound of her. Maybe it was my desperation, maybe it was her isolation… It was probably a combination of both that prompted her to invite me to a Hellfire Club party. I thought she was surely joking, but she insisted that Shaw was eager to make amends with me. She said I impressed him – whatever _that_ meant. I told her I'd consider the offer, but I think we both knew I'd be there. Knowing I'd see her again got me off the phone and to sleep.

.::.

Almost immediately after returning, my father contacting our security specialist Hector and made some major upgrades. Now _no one_ could get into our house without an invitation. And truthfully, we didn't go out much. There would be no more guests, surprises or ambushes. The only person (outside the family) with an all-access pass was Tante Ro, who visited us pretty regularly with news about the X-Men. Of course, they'd all known about the trouble between my family and Summers before Johnny's interview, but now they were forced to acknowledge that they knew. Also, Xavier was back and in perfect health, which pressured some people to follow him in denouncing Summers. _However_, Xavier had been cured by the Phoenix, who strongly supported Cyclops. The girl, Hope, claimed to be from the future - returned to save humanity. After curing Xavier, she returned Emma Frost to her natural, fleshy state, and encouraged Cyclops to relocate to Genosha. Conveniently, he was out of the law's reach in Genosha… Emma said she would not follow him, which shocked the hell out of me, but not Tante Ro.

"Hope very closely resembles Jean," she told us. "In my opinion… He can no longer tell the difference. She is young still, but he is infatuated with her. I fear his children with Emma will be as disconnected from his as Nate and Rachel."

Some members of the team followed Cyclops, of course; as powerful as he was, one man did not an army make. Others decided to stay at the San Francisco base, now led by Sam Guthrie. Those remaining in New York at the school had voted my beloved Tante to lead and represent them. She selected Logan to be her second-in-command, much as she had been Cyclops's, and for a moment, I thought she was going to tell us something else about him, but she never did. Instead, she blind-sided me with a warning about Bishop. Ever since my friends and me time-traveled to save Hope as a baby, he'd been after her. She'd evaded his assassination attempts with the aid of Rachel Grey and Mr. Wagner. That was such a loaded gun; I didn't know which end was up… Mr. Wagner had apparently not been killed like we thought, but had never bothered to correct us. I can understand him wanting to cover his tracks, but we'd mourned him and honored his memory. We felt _cheated_. Then there was the matter of Bishop – Hero's biological father. Would he really come after us? And if he did, would he be for love or murder? Finally, there was the matter of Rachel. I knew Nate loved her very dearly, but when she left Mr. Summers, she left Nate, too, and I know that hurt him. It was such a mess… Why did they bother to return at all?

.::.

It must've been a hundred degrees and we were doing yard work. I know there was a lot to do, but couldn't we pay someone to do it for us? Hell, _I'd_ pay them! We'd used gardeners in the past, but today we weren't just mowing grass or pulling weeds; we were cleaning up the _literal_ mess left behind by X-Force. Rogue and Papa were fixing the window and outside defenses they'd damaged; Renegade was hauling the trash to the dump; Momma, Lena and Ollie were cleaning the broken glass and disturbed furniture inside; and the girls and I had been left to scan the property for any devices or – god forbid – bodies left in the woods. It might sound like we had the easy job, but we didn't. We lived on two hundred arches of land – most of it left to the wilderness. We hiked through heavy underbrush, throne patches and ant beds in search of anything unusual. Becca fell into a briar patch and I had to rescue her. Hero got too tired and I had to carry her back. When we returned, smelly and sweaty and miserable, we were stunned to find a car pulling up the long, brick drive way. We _never_ had visitors anymore!

The car was black with heavily tinted windows, which meant it was a Guild member. Hoping it was Marie or Jean-Luc, I hurried towards the car. At last it stopped and Vaughn stepped out, smiling broadly.

"_LeBeau!_ Had no idea you'd missed me so much!"

I let my face fall. "Oh. It's you. What're _you_ doing here?"

"Your papa invited me! Good afternoon, Miss LeBeau. Boudreaux." He nodded at my sisters. He acted nice enough, but there was a dark glint in his eye. The look he gave me was unnerving, and I wished he'd stop. I knew I was disgusting and dirty, but his eyes kept roaming up and down my body, finally settling on my breasts.

"Hey!" I snapped. "Up here!"

"Eh? Sorry, was reading your shirt," he said, pointing right at my chest.

I shuffled Hero from one hip to the other and looked down at my white t-shirt, which had 'Mutant Freak' written across the bust. Not buying his excuse for a minute, I snapped, "You know my eyes say the same thing!"

"You got _eyes_?"

I didn't want to laugh at him, but I couldn't help myself. Now he thought he was off the hook, which he wasn't. Unable to stomach his disgusting attempts at flirtation any longer, I lead him to the house. I felt his eyes on my ass the entire time.

…

Vaughn and I stood together in a circle made of twain with candles at the four directions. I was so embarrassed that I forced my mind to be quiet. Any thoughts at all would only cripple me with shame and make this painful when it didn't need to be. I hadn't wanted an audience for the ritual, but Papa insisted. He didn't trust Momma anymore. I tried not to think about them or anyone else while Momma said the words and cut the rough yawn binding my hand to his. The ceremony was brief and painless, but traumatic all the same. Afterwards, I wanted to crawl in a hole and die, but Vaughn asked to speak with me.

"Do we _have_ to?" I asked.

He sighed heavily through his nose, making his nostrils flare. His eyes darted irritably towards my parents, but then he looked back and me and spoke very plainly. "I t'ink after everyt'ing you put me t'rough, de _least_ y' could do is _talk_ t' me. But dat's fine, I know how you _cousins_ are. Think I ain't _worth_ speakin' to. Y' just call me up and take everything you needed – _more_ than you needed! You took _everyt'ing_ I had! And den you leave wit'out even sayin' good-bye?"

"If it's reimbursement you're after -" my father snapped, "_Ask_."

Vaughn lifted his chin. "I don't want nothin' in return." He looked back at me. "I just want y' t' acknowledge what I did. I laid down m' _life_ for yours-"

"Dat's enough!" Momma said.

"-Do y' t'ink I did dat for some lame-ass _spell?_ No, Honor, I did dat for _you_!"

"We're done," Momma told him, pushing him away from me.

Desperate to make things right, I moved around her and threw my arms around his neck. His body was stiff and awkward, and we were very much aware of my parents watching us. When they didn't protest (I think they were too shocked to speak), he wrapped his arms around me, too, and I thought he'd never let me go. The hold hurt my back a little – he was too tall. As horrible as it sounds, I longed to conform myself to Tess. We'd always fit together perfectly. I knew I'd be alright now, but as for _him_…?

"I _do_ care about you," I softly said into his tobacco-scented ear. "But not the way you care about me… Isobel's a good girl, and she loves you a lot. Get your head out of your ass and see how lucky you are to have that."

.

_To Be Continued…_

.

**Author's Notes: **I can't apologize enough for taking AGES to get this done… I really do feel terrible about it, but in my defense, wrapping up so many loose ends was like braiding a fish tail! Okay, now some explanations. Way back when Gambit was first introduced (in Marvel canon), he used metal spikes in lieu of cards. That was just a little too hardcore, and like the smokes, had to go. "Isobel" is Isobel Davis, the "stupid virgin" Vaughn seduced. Otherwise, I think everything here explains itself and helped to explain most of what's been going on. I really had a blast writing this chapter and I sincerely hope you enjoyed reading it. As always, please R&R!


	15. Best Intentions

**Disclaimer: **I do not own.

**The Ballad of Honor and Tess**

**The Best Intentions**

_When there's a doubt in your mind  
'Cos you think it all the time,  
Framing rights into wrongs,  
Move along, move along  
When there's a doubt in your mind._

When there's a burning in your heart  
And you think it'll rest apart,  
Oh, there's nothing left to fear  
Save the tears, save the tears  
When there's a burning in your heart.

And if you feel just like a tourist in the city you were born  
Then, it's time to go.  
And if you find your destination with so many different places to call home,  
And if you call yourself a villain,  
In the story you have written  
It's plain to see that sometimes the best intentions  
Are in need of redemptions.  
~You Are A Tourist, Death Cab for Cutie

_._

Babies are born every day. Each one is brought bloodily into this world, and each breath is a miracle. When you stop and consider all the dangers we face each day, it's a miracle _any_ of us are here. Alexander Summers, Jr. was born at a healthy eight pounds with little hair and strong limbs. He was born ready to go – just like his parents. As I held him, wrapped up as tightly as a football, he kicked his little legs and punched his little arms. Ms. Frost-Summers said he'd been moving non-stop the entire pregnancy, and she was glad to have him out. I wasn't entirely sure why she named her son after her husband's _brother_, but if Mr. Alex had been supporting her the way he did Maddie, then he deserved the honor. I suspected that she intended to name her son _Scott_ Summers, Jr., but now that the two of them were separated, decided against it. No one dared to ask; we all pretended it was the most normal thing in the world. It was a little awkward being around her again… I would've apologized and tried to explain that I hadn't _intentionally_ tried to kill her, but I know her, and she didn't want my "excuses". As for patching things up, that's what this whole day was about. My family and I were meeting with the Summers's to see if we couldn't reach an understanding. It was a smart move on his end; my Momma seeking revenge would only end badly for him. I wasn't afraid of Mr. Summers, but I understood that my family didn't need him as an enemy. And if he were to remain our enemy – he needed to be kept close. In rather typical fashion for him, he'd already moved on to next crisis without bothering to conclude this one. The nation island of Genosha, where he'd chosen to establish his new Headquarters, was sinking. If he could not find a way to stabilize it, he would have to evacuate and re-locate. The citizens were very uncertain of the future, and resident nations turned greedy eyes towards the mutant nation. It was a crisis, surely, but his marriage was in ruins, he had a new baby boy, his long-lost daughter had returned to him, and his team was torn apart by his latest decisions… He had _many_ problems. Why should _Genosha_ take center stage? The only reason he'd returned to the States at all was because my Tante Ro and Mr. Alex Summers had insisted on it.

His reluctance was probably the _only_ thing about Mr. Summers that I understood. I didn't want to be around these people, either! I was still a little sore towards Momma. My parents were still angry with each other, although that feud took second status to the arguments between Papa and Rogue. He found out that she knew about the spell and didn't tell him or confront my mother; she was sore over Lila. Worse, Momma and Rogue bore a grudge – Momma felt like Rogue had forced us into danger by going after my father, Rogue thought Momma escalated the whole situation by fortifying herself and firing on Sam and the others. The three of them tried to put up a good front, but we kids knew the truth. René and I – and the kiddies, too – were glad to be all together again. But the tangled web of love and hate would have to wait to be sorted. Regardless of our feelings, we needed to appear united, so that's what we did. We would face the world together.

The trip wasn't a complete farce, though.

Nate and Rachel were still at Ms. Frost-Summers' new home when we arrived. They'd come to see the baby, too: their new brother. If I'd never known them and walked into that house as a stranger, I would've thought they were the closest of kin. It was refreshing to see them happy together, and their good attitude was contagious. Momma complimented the new baby and mother endlessly until Ms. Frost-Summers glowed anew. Papa and Rogue flirted with the idea of getting their own infant, but I knew they weren't taking it seriously. I was sincerely polite to everyone, but stayed nearest to Nate. I wanted to hug my friend and tell him I understood why he had to try and help his father, and I hoped he'd forgive me for my errors. But he was holding his little brother in his metallic hands and looked so nervous that I didn't dare try to test him.

Ollie looked at the baby and then at Ms. Frost-Summers, and I watched an epiphany wash over his little face. "You had _another_ one?"

"It would appear so," she said coolly.

"Where's Megan?" he asked.

"Sleeping. As all good children do."

The twins were only two when Megan was born, and Becca hadn't shown much interest. But with baby Alex, she was very curious. She climbed on Nate's lap and peered at his little face and asked, "What's his name?"

"Alexander."

"Where… did he come from?"

"Huh – his mother. Emma. Would you like to hold him?"

She shook her head 'no' and leaned back. After she realized Nate wouldn't try to talk her into it, she re-approached the baby. I could see her little mind working, too. She was trying to put the pieces together, but the parts weren't adding up to the sum. And then – of all the things she could've asked – she said, "He was born _naked_, wasn't he?"

We all laughed at her, but she was quite serious.

"_Oui, petite,"_ Papa said, "We come in wit' not'ing and dat's how we go out."

Baby Alexander opened his little mouth and started crying. Nate tried to pass him off to Emma, but she shook her head and handed him a diaper. I thought that was a little rude – this wasn't _Nate's_ child – but it was his _brother_ and his father was nowhere in sight. So Nate very, very carefully laid the baby down and unwrapped him. It was probably the longest diaper change _ever_, and Baby Alexander wailed the whole time – but he got it done. Then he attempted to re-wrap the blanket without lifting or disturbing the baby at all.

"That's fine if you're using _tape_," I pushed him aside and wrapped up Baby Alex again. Once cradled in my arms, he stopped crying, but continued to squirm and look around. He couldn't even see – not well, at least, but his eyes fluttered to everything in the room.

"He's ready to get _moving_," I said.

"Y' know what dat means…" Started Papa.

And Rogue finished, "He's gettin' out of the way for the next one."

"Maybe from _you_," Ms. Frost-Summers snapped. "_My_ child bearing days are behind me. Just _look_ at me! _Disgusting!_ I suppose sagging breasts and stretch marks are the sign of a good Cajun wife, but I'd like to retain _some_ sort of a presentable profile."

We all wanted to verbally lash back for one insult or another (she was good at offending many for much with few words), but it was the littlest man who won the first retort. And it wasn't even directed at her.

"No, Momma!" Ollie suddenly yelled, "Babies _suck!"_

Suddenly, all of Ms. Frost-Summers' petty words were… just _petty_. Her ugliness couldn't bring us down: not around a child's imagination and energy. We smiled at his fierce possessiveness, which was strange and amusing and wonderful in one so young.

Rogue egged him on. "What d'you mean, son?"

"I'll be your _bébé!_ _Wah-wah-wah!_ Dat's all babies do!"

We laughed again and all eyes moved away from Ms. Frost-Summers until her next tantrum.

…

Newborn babies are one of life's best gifts and visiting baby Alexander lifted my spirits considerably. Unfortunately, my good feelings plummeted into an icy grave after we left. Logan escorted us to Xavier Academy, where my family was meeting with the Summers's to negotiate a truce. The school was void of students and currently under Tante Ro's care, so it served as perfectly neutral ground. Anticipating a negative outcome, the meeting was arranged so that both parties arrived and left on different routes and with neutral escorts. I didn't want to drag this out any longer, but I wasn't ready to bury the hatchet, either. Couldn't he just… _go away?_

I know the X-Men usually met in the War Room when holding group discussions, but this matter wasn't _war_ related. Actually, it kind of was, but I guess no one wanted to admit it. Or maybe Tante Ro didn't want us to have the access codes. More likely, she just wanted to keep this casual and put us at ease, so we met in the breakfast parlor. The curtains were thrown open – it was a beautiful day outside – and the room had recently been polished. Tante Ro had more natural tastes than Xavier, so the parlor was decorated with flowerless, green ferns and ficus trees. The furniture was polished oak and white cotton, so that I half-expected to be served warm tea and play cricket. It was an enormous change from mahogany and leather: more feminine and less oppressive. My _tante_ herself was dressed in a loose, flowing dress that was impeccably white and made her skin glow. Her long, white hair was regally pulled back, and her face was quite stern, but she wore sandals and no bra. I couldn't tell if she'd put much thought into this meeting or not. When she entered, the tension in the room quieted, even though my family and the Summers's had largely ignored each other. We sat on opposing sides of the table and the adults all glared at each other. I found my father's gaze particularly fierce, but Mr. Summers never buckled. Rogue and Ms. Frost-Summers were present, too, but with baby Alex in Emma's arms between them, I doubted they'd come to blows. Momma and Renegade were there, too, although we'd had to force them to come along. No one truly wanted to be there, but only the kiddies got to miss out. The twins, Hero, and Megan were outside with Logan, who refused to participate. (I was a little hurt that he wouldn't stand with us, and at the time, I thought my actions were the reason. But later, I would come to understand Logan's nature didn't allow for him to take sides.) Lastly, Nate was seated at the end of the table across from me: we served as a physical buffer between our parents and Tante Ro. Although I desperately wanted to talk to him, I didn't dare. Truthfully, I wanted to be invisible.

The only sound in the world was the sound of my heart beating when Tante Ro entered and took her seat at the head of the table. She laced her fingers and looked around at everyone like she spoke in a voice like thunder.

"Before we begin, I would like to establish some ground rules so that we all know what is to be expected. First, you shall all be given the opportunity to speak, so please allow _others_ the courtesy to speak. Secondly, you shall refrain from placing blame on anyone excluding yourself. You have the rest of your lives to slander each other, but that is not the reason for coming here today. And finally, though I hope this goes without saying – there shall be _no_ altercations of _any_ kind, today or hereafter. Is that understood?"

No one spoke, but I nodded affirmatively.

"Then I shall begin by reiterating the facts," Tante Ro continued. "If there are any mistakes, you may make your corrections after I have finished, but please focus on the _facts_. And afterwards, we shall discuss how to… _amend_ the situation, if not the relationship. Agreed? Then I shall begin with Remy's conversion, since that seems to be the starting point." She tapped on the table in front of her, striking some buttons unseen. A hologram screen projected between my family and the Summers', so we could all see what she was reading. "On July second, between the hours of three and four a.m., Gambit attacked Honor but was interrupted by Rogue and Bella Donna. He was last seen leaping from the rooftop, but a search of the grounds revealed nothing. At eight-twenty a.m., Rogue contacted Cyclops and requested his help."

"_Pleaded_, actually," Mr. Summers interrupted.

Tante Ro put up a hand to stop him and kept reading. "Her exact words, as recorded by Cerebra's files are: 'I don't think I can handle him anymore. He would've killed us all in our sleep if I hadn't stopped him'." She paused for dramatic effect. "Strong words, indeed. Cyclops agreed to locate and apprehend Gambit. During the arrest, there was a… situation-"

"Yeah," Rogue interjected, arms crossed and leaning over the table. Her eyes bore into Ms. Frost-Summers as she seethed, "Emma tried ta lock up his mind and throw away the key!"

"Interesting connotation," she retorted, "Breaking out of prisons is what he does _best_. Or are you beginning to doubt his capabilities?"

"This ain't what the X-Men are about!"

"_Enough!"_ Tante Ro didn't shout, but she came very close. "I was very serious when I forbade bickering! Another outburst and I shall _let_ you kill each other!"

"I'm shaking," Ms. Frost-Summers said nonchalantly.

"_Emma,"_ warned Tante Ro.

"_Ororo,"_ she echoed back, arching an eyebrow daringly.

I wanted to back-hand her! Of everyone, she'd come the closest to dying. She and her son were very lucky to be alive and breathing, but here she was, challenging death again! With her child in her arms, no less! She had some nerve!

Static electricity sparked off my tante's dark skin, but her voice was steady. "For the sake of your children, will you take this mediation seriously? If I am _boring_ you with a story you are well-versed in, then I shall get to the point. What has _happened?_" She waited and looked around at a silent table. "Bright Lady, do you not _know?_ For _years_ you have worked together without issue! Your children are peaceful together. I daresay they even love each other. But you have _one_ altercation, and suddenly all reason is dismissed! Granted, things have escalated drastically, but I do not believe it is beyond repair. Unless you want to continue suffering over this issue, as those _outside_ this room believe, cease with this _childish_ contempt!"

We were silent again, but I could sense the words bubbling just below that quiet.

"Now…" Tante Ro sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Are there any false reports you would like to address at this time?"

I expected the adults to start shouting all at once, but they were quiet again. I think they were only looking to accuse each other, but if they couldn't do that, they wouldn't speak at all. Or maybe they were all waiting for someone else to apologize. Whatever the reason, no one said anything, so I spoke up.

"I have something to say… Ethan and I weren't _trying_ to hurt anyone. Ms. Frost-Summers, you should've _never_ confronted us on your own. The whole reason you were left behind was because Mr. Summers was trying to _protect_ you-"

Embarrassment flashed across her face, which she then quickly covered with anger. "Don't presume to tell me my _place_, young lady!"

"Don't talk t' my daughter in dat tone!" Momma snapped.

"_Enough!"_ Tante Ro shouted. Then, softly, "Honor, please continue."

"Anyways… we weren't _trying_ to turn her into a diamond, either. It was a complete accident. Somehow… My powers merged with Ethan's and… I don't know how it happened…"

"That's not possible," said Mr. Summers. "In order for two mutant powers to merge they have to be chemically balanced. You'd have to have the same level of mutation or be a genetic twin…"

The confidence faded from his voice towards the end of his high-and-mighty speech. He and his estranged wife shared the briefest of glances, revealing a secret between them. They _knew! _They _knew_ Ethan couldn't be my genetic twin because he'd been cloned from Nate… but surely they'd noticed that Ethan and Nate _weren't_ identical. And Ethan's differences had come from _someone_. They must've discovered the truth when Nate was sick and we were searching for a blood donor, but chose to keep the knowledge a secret. They didn't know that Ethan and I knew, or that I'd told my family. As quickly as the glance was shared, it was covered again. Nate noticed and looked to them for an explanation, but Ms. Frost-Summers had already established a mental block to keep his telepathy from overhearing their conversation. Stupid. Mr. Summers should've learned that what he keeps from his son, I'll share, and Nate will always love me for it. But I wouldn't tell him here – where Mr. Summers could explain himself. After a moment, Nate turned his attention back to our conversation.

"I'm telling you," I said, "That's what happened."

"Thank you for your words, Honor," Tante Ro nodded once at me and then looked around patiently.

Nate sighed and appeared to be speaking to himself. "I know Honor only ran because she was scared…" He looked at me directly, "But I wish you would've come to me after the accident. _I_ was scared, too. I didn't even know if you were alive or not… And then that thing with Emma, and my dad was looking to _me_ for answers, blaming _me_ for everything, when _I_ didn't know any more than _he_ did!"

"Nathan-"

"No, Storm; I'm sorry, but she needs to hear this!" he said, "She's responsible for _more_ than just Emma! If you'd come to us right away, _none_ of this would've happened! Not the siege, not Sam, and not the interview that's blown this all to hell!"

I felt like I'd been slapped.

Luckily, my father came to my rescue. "It ain't her fault. It's mine. When Beast tried t' help me, I shoulda taken 'm seriously. 'Stead I just made it hard f'r everyone who cared about me. And den… Den de darkness won. Nate, if you t'ink she deserves t' be punished for hurtin' you and yours, trust me, y' can't treat her any worse den I already did. And everyt'ing she did after dat was because a' me. Cyke… I t'ink he was tryin' t' do de right t'ing, too. I know he don' wanna see anyone hurt, either. And hell, someone came after my kids or his, I'd take 'm out. No questions. If you're lookin' for someone t' blame, it's me. T'ings got carried away. Fam'ly is… It's a volatile t'ing."

The tension in the room seemed to suddenly dissipate. We all wanted someone to blame, and with someone finally taking responsibility, we had nothing left to fight over. This didn't mean that I would hear insults about my father or throw any, but even I knew he'd been the catalyst. The acceptance made tears well up in my eyes: an effect I saw mirrored in his own. I desperately wanted to say something encouraging to him, but I had no words.

"No, don't stop there," said Ms. Frost-Summers. "Admit that you're _still_ a threat to anyone stupid enough to trust you. That includes your teammates, your wife, your kids… Although I guess we know who you'll go after first, and I'm glad it's not anyone _I_ care about. Don't tell me I'm the _only_ one here who knows that."

"Emma," Mr. Summers spoke in his booming, fearless-leader voice, "That's not why we're here. We came to reach a truce, so let's get to it."

Tante Ro looked at him sideways. "Cyclops, do you have _nothing_ to contribute to this discussion?"

"I let my actions speak for me, Storm. As for the discussion, I think it's progressed as far as it can for one day. So if you're ready, I'd like to move forward."

She nodded. "Both parties have been asked to sacrifice something to benefit the other in a gesture of hospitality and good faith. First, let us hear the other's requests. Cyclops?"

"I want the press off my back," he told my father. "I've got enough to deal with every day, just trying to protect mutant rights. I don't want to put any more effort into improving the image of the X-Men than I already have. None of this would've happened if you'd accepted our help the first time around, but everyone thinks I want you dead. Obviously, _I_ can't convince them otherwise."

"Emma?"

"I want Cerebra back. Can you give me that?"

"I can fund it," Papa said.

"Excellent. And while we're on the topic of money, I want you to finance Sam's recovery _and_ the reconstruction of the San Francisco department. I _should_ ask for more, but I'll make do with that."

"Nathan?"

His hate-filled blue eyes glanced spitefully at his father and then turned to me. "_I_ just want an apology."

"Nate, you _know_ how sorry I am," I leaned across the table and pleaded. "I'm sorry I made you pick between me and your dad. I'm sorry Emma got hurt. I'm sorry I had to blow up Cerebra to hide my father, but they wanted him _dead!_ And _yes_, I would rather have an insane, homicidal father than a dead one! Because I _know_ what it feels like to lose a parent! And as much as it hurts to lose you as a friend, it doesn't compare… I'm sorry, it just _doesn't_. It doesn't mean I don't love you, of course I do. But if you don't understand and can't be my friend anymore… I couldn't blame you."

He was so tense I could feel it: like a rubber band waiting to snap. "I understand, 'On. But I don't know if I can _forgive_ you."

"_Mais_, I'm gonna help y' figure it out, _homme_," said my father. "Stormy, y' ain't gotta go t'rough de rooster over here. We talked about dis before, and our request is both advantageous and… poetic."

Momma smiled and said gleefully, "We want y' kids."

"Come again?" Ms. Frost-Summers raised an eye-brow.

"Don't panic," Rogue said quickly, "It's not forever. Just a week or two."

"Since I trusted you t' keep mine safe, figure I'd return de favor." Papa couldn't keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

"Considering the gravity of your request, I would've appreciated more tact," said Mr. Summers. "But I guess there's no point pretending we're all friends. If you want to _babysit_, Gambit, fine."

"If I recall, our children have _two_ parents. Or do you expect me to fade into the background like your _last_ two ex-wives?" Ms. Frost-Summers hissed.

Momma casually said, "I'm sure Alex'll be _glad_ t' help y' out."

"Emma, please," said Mr. Summers, "They've agreed to everything we've asked for, and I really don't think they're going to hurt the kids. Are you really going to bail out over _this_?"

"So glad to know where you prioritize our children, Scott, and I'll be sure to bring it up in the custody hearing, too. But while our son's life is measured in _weeks_, I'll be there for all of them."

"Den we compromise," said Papa, "You keep de baby."

I know she was unhappy – that was the point – but her mind was making the situation so much worse. So I picked at my nails and said easily, "Megan and Ollie get along great, and it's not like we're short on rooms…"

"Look on de bright side, Nate," Momma added, "If dis were de Guild, we'd be marryin' de two a' you off!"

.::.

It was a bit of a full house for a while, but we managed. Meg bunked up with Hero in her room adjacent to my mother's; Nate took the guest room across the hall from Renegade's; and Rachel shared my room. We all made good on our promises and we all helped each other, too. The grown Summers kids helped us put our lives together – rebuilding our house and arranging my father's schedule while he helped to restore Mr. Summers's "good" reputation. At first, things were awkward in our private moments. Momma was uncomfortable kissing Megan good-night; Renegade didn't play his music as loud as he normally did; Nate didn't touch _anything_ without permission; and Papa and Rogue were less affectionate. It might've been the strain of Lila on their relationship, but I think it was the numerous eyes.

Even I felt as though I was always being _watched_.

I'm sure it didn't help that I had to share my room – something completely new and alien to me. Rachel was… Well, she was completely unlike anyone I'd ever known. She and I had shared stories and things in common, but I'd never actually _spoken_ to her about anything. It seemed so hard to build a relationship now. What would I say to her? She knew everything about me except who I was. From a distance, I watched her in my home. She had a natural, deep-seeded confidence like her mother. _Un_like her father (who was probably the most insecure person I'd ever known and over-compensated with arrogance), Rachel's self-assurance brought her grace and compassion. Those weren't particularly qualities I admired, but I respected them in her. Her smile was disarming and her kindness made my face flush. I desperately wanted to speak to her, but fear prevented me. What if she hated me?

After three days of civil conversation about the weather or the kiddies or our chores, Rachel finally broke the barrier between acquaintances and friends. (I hadn't expected her to break so easily. This young woman had been adrift in time and space: torn time and again from her loved ones. I'd expected her chronic isolation would make her a master of keeping secrets. Turns out, she was quite the opposite: terribly eager to form long-term connections.) We were in my room, getting ready for bed, when she shattered the polite silence like jack hammer.

"Honor, are you… in love with my brother?"

I could've laughed, but I was sick of hearing this particular accusation. "No. I'm gay. I hope that doesn't make you uncomfortable."

"No, not at all!" She smiled. "It all makes perfect sense now! I didn't really think it was true, but you guys's relationship is just so… bizarre. I didn't know what else to make of it. I mean, he's always helping you. And you're a great girl, but you're so _young_."

I didn't care for her enthusiasm. "I thought you and Nate had a special bond, like the one… Like your parents used to have."

"We used to," she said. "Back when he didn't keep secrets from me. But he's gotten very good at hiding things he doesn't want me to know about… I guess that's my fault. The age difference doesn't help. I think he thinks of me more as a _mother_ figure than a friend. And after Dad married Emma… I just couldn't be here anymore. I think Nate took it personally. I love him, but I don't know who he is." Her voice trailed off, overcome by sorrow.

I saw my chance and I took it. "That's a very brave thing to say. Most people would just keep pretending everything was the same… Rachel, you've always helped me when Nate asked for you… And for no other reason than because you loved him. I want to help you." I took a deep, dramatic breath as if slowing my pulse. "The night I destroyed Cerebra, my friend Ethan was with me. We thought we were going to die, so he told me his darkest secret. Ethan is… he's been cloned from Nate. Mr. Sinister spliced his DNA with mine to create Ethan." I saw the blood drain from her face and filled the silence with words I'm sure she never heard. "That's why they have the same blood type, and why Ethan tried to kill Nate. He thinks he doesn't have a soul now, and that his life has no purpose. I just found out that night, and I've been dying to tell Nate, but… You know, we aren't speaking now. I think your dad and Emma found out when Nate was in the hospital, but they didn't know about my part until the mediation with-"

"Wait, how do you know that my dad knows?"

"Just a hunch," I shrugged. "My powers merged with Ethan's during the sabotage, and when I said that, they exchanged a funny look. Nate suspected they were hiding something, too; I saw it on his face."

She sat on the nook and stared out the window for a long time.

"He should know," I said finally. "He _deserves_ to know. But I can't tell him. He'll think… Well, he'll think he has to side with his dad on this because of everything that's happened. But Mr. Summers isn't going to tell him. You should do it. And… it'll bring you guys closer."

She told him that night. I was extremely anxious to know how it went, but they never told me. Out of nerves, I went to Renegade's room. We sat in the quiet, trying to hear or See anything, but we couldn't. Rachel and Nate had either established telepathic barriers or spoke on the astral plane.

"You did de right thing, Sis," René told me confidently.

I wanted to snap at him. I didn't give two _shits_ about doing the "right" thing! I'd given Rachel my ace – possibly the _only_ one my family had against Summers! And it could backfire, depending on how she told him. Words. In the end, it all came down to _words_. Renegade didn't understand. He could never understand. And if I were honest with myself, that's what I wanted. The more ignorant he was of this game, the more susceptible he was to my influence.

I smiled sweetly and rested my head on his shoulder. "If you ever find out I've been cloned and implanted with false memories, dear brother, you can keep it to yourself. I'm happy being me."

"No, you genuine. But sometimes I s'pect I'm adopted."

…

"How can you _say_ that?"

"I'm sorry, Gi, I didn't mean to sound that harsh. I just… Look, things are really hectic here."

"Things are hectic here, too!" my girlfriend snapped. "We literally _just_ walked in from Italy! We've got bags to unpack and my brother needs to see a dentist and I haven't slept in fourteen hours! But we haven't seen each other in _months_ and you've been through hell, and I would really love to see you, 'On."

"Well, I'm sorry, but you can't."

"I'm calling a taxi and heading over right now."

"Don't bother. I won't be here."

I hung up, wondering if she'd ever speak to me again. Of course she would. She'd even forgive me if I apologized. But I really was leaving.

I'd done the wrong thing often enough to know when I was doing it. First, you start keeping secrets. Then you become desperate, paranoid, depressed. Eventually your lies pile up so high that they consume you. And when the hour glass finally breaks under the pressure, you finally get perspective. Hunger. Loneliness. Desire. Strange the things that override logic and reason. Rogue once told me that making mistakes was part of growing up. Ironic, then, that no one ever _stops_ making mistakes, even when you _know_ you're doing it.

I couldn't tell anyone I was going to see Tess, and it hurt. I'd never gone on a date without asking for Renegade's advice on my outfits and how much he thought my date fancied me. His opinion meant a lot to me. I knew what he'd say about this – "don' do it" – and he was right. I had no real future with her. Manhattan might as well have been Mars, but distance wasn't the only issue. Her loyalties had moved to Shaw and the Hellfire Club, which was often at odds with the X-Men. As much as I hated them, the X-Men had my father's support, and I could never abandon him. These problems between us should've been problems, but they really weren't. When she and I were together, there were no politics, no games, and no conflicts because we were utterly alone. To feel united with someone – that had to count for something. Surely, that was worth following through some trials. Pissing off my family would be one of many…

Since I couldn't tell my family, she had to send a car to get me to a Hellfire Club party at the Gavsevoort Park in the city. I should've been impressed. Mr. Shaw was wealthy and distrustful (as wealthy people have to be, I guess), and the hotel was considered one of the best for parties. I got to dress up and leave secretly – just like Cinderella. But I didn't feel like a princess; I felt like a dirty liar. If – _when_ – my parents found out where I'd been, they'd be furious. Papa had his own reasons for hating Shaw, and if he ever found out what he'd done to me and Tess, he'd hate him even more. I hated him, too. I hated that ogre with everything I had. But he was a part of Tess's life now, and if I wanted to be a part of it, too, I'd have to deal with him. I'd have to adorn the costume and play the role…

The hotel wasn't the prettiest or biggest I'd ever seen, although I'd _never_ been impressed with the architecture preferred by New Englanders. The food was sub-par and the music as bland as white walls. Sarcasm and oppression were the order of the night, and I wanted to leave before I even saw her. I felt uncomfortable in heels on the loose carpet, which snagged at my shoes at each step. These people were so _old_ – receding hair lines and plastic surgery everywhere! But they stood huddled together, using their bodies to shield their elitism from my common blood, and looked down their fake noses at my red-sequin gown. René called it my Jessica Rabbit dress. I got it from Mona, but my parents had never let me wear it outside of the house. I laughed at myself in my hand-me-down sexy gown. The spectators quickly looked away from my unprovoked smile: like wicked demons cowering in the shadows from sunlight.

"Honor…" Tess almost whispered my name.

She was wearing her black underwear, as usual. The top was a corset that lifted and separated her milky breasts, and the bottoms were silk panties that cut up the sides and down at her groin. They exposed that crease between her thighs and groin, which had been shaved of natural pubic hair and made my lips moist. Perhaps out of modesty, she'd added long gloves and high boots, too. She didn't smile as she approached – not with her lips, anyway. But her blue eyes were glowing. She chastely held my elbows and kissed the side of my face.

"Easy, honey," she said in my ear. "They can _smell_ fear."

"They _should_..." I said easily as I held her. "This gaudy display of power doesn't come from love."

Her crimson-painted lips curved up. "Shall I introduce you?"

She led me to a playing table, where Mr. Shaw and a handful of others were drinking and playing Texas Hold 'em. I should've listened to her introductions – or at least pretended to listen – but I'm a very bad liar when I want to be. My eyes burned into Shaw the entire time: a gesture he returned. A man at the table laughed at us.

"I don't think she likes you, Sebastian."

"I think you're right, Donald, but I invited her and she came. Let's be quiet and see if I can coax her closer. Care for a seat, dear?"

Everyone except for Shaw expected me to storm off. Even Tess didn't think I'd indulge him. But I took a seat and watched as they finished their game. These men threw around hundreds of thousands of dollars as if they were pennies. I wasn't impressed with their extravagance.

"Come, Trevor, are you in or out?"

"I… I'm in. Raise you 3."

"What do you think?" Shaw asked me, throwing three hundred thousand dollars into the pot. "Is he bluffing?"

"Oh, is she a telepath?" asked the only woman at the table besides myself. She had long, auburn hair and dressed in white underwear.

"Better," said Shaw, "She's a psychic. Well, dear, what do you say?"

"She can tell the future? Really? Then save us the trouble and tell us who'll win," the woman goaded.

"Your name is Paris Kensington," I snapped at her. "A pretty name for an ugly woman. You used to torture animals, and when you were nine you killed a boy. His parents never found out what happened to him. And if I ever to give you – _any_ of you – _any_ advice, it would probably be counter-intelligence because you deserve all the misery you get!"

They laughed as if I'd told a funny joke. Shaw actually wiped tears away.

"_Nine_, Paris? Really? Why didn't you tell us?"

"Would you have believed me?" she asked proudly.

Donald was bluffing about bluffing and took the pot. When the dealer shuffled for the next round, I was told I'd need to buy chips to keep my seat.

"No, thank you, this game's a little too rich for my blood," I stood to leave.

"I'll buy for her," said Shaw. "Go ahead and give her the standard. I'll cover it. You do know how to play, don't you?"

Finally, Tess spoke up. "Don't let those eyes fool you, Mr. Shaw. She knows the game."

I couldn't help but think she was bragging on me, and _not_ for my poker abilities.

I was dealt a jack of spades and three of clubs. Mr. Shaw would take this pot with a royal flush, but I'd take it all the way to the end: make a big deal of losing. If I could handle the Guild, I could handle this group, too. But I didn't need them knowing my full potential.

Donald stacked his chips and asked me, "Now is it _Anna_ or _Honor_?"

"Honor, like 'honor thy mother and father'."

"Adorable!" Paris cooed.

"Geez," I said, looking around the table. "Half expected you all to burst into flame when I quoted Scripture."

Again, they laughed. These people weren't much different from the bullies at school. The only way to earn their respect was to be as mean and disrespectful as possible. I didn't understand people who so openly mistake their enemies for their friends, but I recognized them.

Tess hailed a waitress for refreshment on the drinks, and while the woman was busy, my ex nonchalantly circled the table to my chair. I felt her cold, slender fingers grasp the back of my dress and latch the tiny hook atop the zipper. Her skin only briefly brushed mine, but the gesture struck my core. It was a stupid excuse to touch me, which meant she _wanted_ to, and it also meant she'd been checking out my backside. She always said it was my best side. I bit down a smile as she walked back to Shaw.

"Speaking of," Donald said to me, "What is it your parents do? I don't believe I'm familiar with the LeBeaus."

"Don't _insult_ the girl, man," Shaw told Donald. "She and Tessa created Mutant Freaks! What a stroke of luck _that_ little venture turned out to be. I acquired Tess _and_ an infinite amount of information on mutants. Their identities, powers, locations – all available to us because of these two doves. And she might not want me to say so, but acquiring information is a LeBeau family trade."

"Oh, I just love secrets…" said Paris.

The table fell into silence as the game became more competitive. Despite the recklessness of these people, they were still fiercely ambitious. They couldn't lose anything, not even a card game. I, too, wanted to win, if only for the thrill of victory. But I had to bow out and let my disappointment show.

"Looks like she's too _nice_ to take your money," Trevor noted.

"Or maybe she's too _scared_ to really play," said Donald.

"Don't be rash, gentlemen," Tess said, "This is a gambit."

By my third loss, they stopped expecting much from me. But I had a plan. Slowly, I whittled my pot down from a million to one-hundred thousand dollars. I was timing the set-up so that by the time I had a winning hand, no one blinked when I bet everything. I had almost nothing left, anyway. My opponents checked, certain I was about to leave the table. Instead, I took their earnings. Their arrogance had been fueled – they wouldn't lose to a stupid little girl. So they bet again to prove their worth. I won the next hand and the next. Shaw was the first to bow out. I don't know if Tess tipped him off to my plan or if he's just smarter than he is greedy, but the fact that he stayed to observe put me on edge. He collected his pot and stood patiently behind Paris Kensington while we finished the game. Tess wrapped her arms around me from behind, and despite myself, I could feel my senses slipping as my pulse increased.

I took the next two hands, too, and then left with my winnings.

"You _must_ stay, I insist!" Donald pleaded.

"Things were just getting interesting," said Paris.

"You want some excitement?" I asked lightly, gathering my chips. "Avoid bodies of water. You're going to die by drowning."

Everyone laughed except for her.

"When?" She asked weakly.

"Not long."

Shaw turned to Tess. "Looks like your promotion is coming sooner than I thought!"

Again, everyone except Paris roared with laughter and I saw my opportunity. I stood up straight and said, "Until then-?"

He waved Tess away and lit up a cigar. "I need to stretch my legs, anyway."

She followed me with quick steps to the cashier. I turned my chips into dollar bills – totaling almost the original million I'd started with – and laughed when I couldn't fit them all into my purse. I off-handedly asked Tess to take a handful to help me out. Instead, she grabbed my shoulders and kissed my lips. Instinctively, I kissed her back, and then pulled away.

"I offer you a few hundred dollars, so you _kiss_ me?"

The light faded from her eyes. "You _win_ a few hundred and you're too good to be kissed?"

"Ah!" I forced my clutch-bag to shut. "I'm sick of your games, Tess! That's all it ever is with you! Hot and cold!"

I walked out as gracefully as I could manage, and was both elated and infuriated when she followed me. Once we were outside, she called out, "Why did you come?"

I stopped, but didn't turn around right away. She was smart enough to keep out of arm's length, and only then did I face her.

"Honestly, I don't know why I came. I didn't _want_ to… Why did you _invite_ me?"

"I invited you for the same reason you accepted. I would like to invite you again in the future, although I wouldn't exactly call this a success."

Trying to understand her was like trying to figure out calculus in your sleep. Trying to get through to her was like trying to punch through the Hoover Dam. We were either trying too hard or not at all, but either way, this wasn't working.

"I think I made a mistake," I said. "I should probably go home. And you… Have a good night."

I pulled the handle of my graciously-provided ride, but she threw herself between me and the door, slamming it shut again. This was so unlike her that I actually gasped and jumped back: subconsciously thinking I was about to be attacked. (Odd how I often confused her affection for anger.)

Her cobalt eyes burned and her bust heaved with impatience. She hissed, "Do you _have_ to play the martyr? You've lost _nothing_ by coming here! If you want to leave, I won't stop you, but _you_ weren't betrayed, so don't expect _me_ to apologize!"

"Tess, you _sold_ my _family_!" I yelled.

"And _saved_ you from yourselves!" She shouted back as heat rose to her scarred cheeks. "Christ, and _how_ many times?"

"But you think _one_ night with _one_ boy is unforgiveable?" I forged on as if I hadn't heard her. "How could you ever think a – a _dick_ could come between _us_? Between what we _had_? It was solace, that's all. _Stupid_, I know, but it didn't mean that I didn't still love you. Or that I don't still."

"Maybe it didn't mean anything to you," she said quietly, "But you knew it meant something to me… And it meant something to Ethan… And you did it, anyway. You expect me to understand that, but you can't _tolerate_ Sebastian." Then she caught herself. She stopped talking and shook her head in disgust.

I had no right to ask about him, but I could ask about us. "Does _he_ come between us?"

"Only if you _let_ him." She gave me a vindictive look.

"Is that why you're still with him? So I'll _let_ him drive us apart?"

A range of emotions flashed across her face – sorrow, anger, self-loathing.

I disarmed her with a careless shrug. "It's okay… Far as I'm concerned, nothing compares to us. All the dicks in the world are just feathers in the wind. But I know now that my head's pretty fucked up. You look good, by the way. Wish you'd put some clothes on, though. I like a girl with a little bit of mystery."

"Screw you, LeBeau," she said coldly.

"This is nice, babe. Talking to you again. Even if we're fighting… It's nice. Really."

"I've missed speaking with you, as well… Despite my better judgment." She let a sly smile linger on her lips. I couldn't tell if she loved or hated me, and I was just as confused about my own feelings. At last, she chose a side. "I – forgot your mother left her shoes at my penthouse."

I leapt at her lame excuse. "Did she? I think she'd like them back."

"I have to stay until midnight. Could you wait for me?"

The question hung in the air – much like our relationship. She'd taken a huge risk inviting me, and I hadn't really tried to repay her. I could've charmed Shaw and his friends, but I didn't care if they approved her not. Tess did, though; she needed them to want me around if we were going to keep seeing each other. Everything fell apart, and she was still asking me to stay. I was either a queen or a slave… Hard to tell.

I spent the rest of the night down the street at a coffee shop. Yes, in my hand-me-down Jessica Rabbit gown. A few college boys bought my cappuccinos and made me feel a little less awkward. They didn't have the courage to ask for my phone number, but I was just grateful for the company.

At midnight, Tess pulled up in the car as promised, and I left with a smile from my new friends. As I walked towards the car and rode to her house, I didn't feel at all like myself. Why was I doing this? What did I expect to happen? Was she telepathically influencing me again? I didn't think so, but even on the elevator ride up and short walk to her door, I felt like someone I didn't know was going with Tess.

The sound of the light switch was deafening in the silence. The place must have been soundproof; even in the middle of the night, the city wasn't this quiet. I couldn't help but wonder what _other_ additions had been made. Clearly, she'd invested some serious cash into it. The rooms were probably monitored by an invisible security system; the locks were probably touch-sensitive. I could sense the fortifications here, the way a fox senses danger. (A thirteenth generation criminal is bound to have _some_ innate talents!) Otherwise, the place was understatedly impressive. The most striking aspects were the size and the view, which were priceless in the city. Everything else was standard city style: modern architecture, white walls, clear cabinets revealing white dishes I'm certain she never used. The kitchen stepped up twice into the living room, which sported two doors to hidden rooms: presumably, the bedroom and bathroom. Her living room was most bare except for a large couch, transparent coffee table and a baby grand piano.

My jaw dropped open. "Tessy, you don't know how to play."

She turned and smiled at me. _There_ was the girl I knew! "Are you going to stand in the doorway all night, or are you going to come in?" she asked as she stripped away her gloves and boots.

Like a moth to the flame, I walked directly to her piano.

"I'd offer you a drink, but you've been drinking all night," she said as she unpinned her hair. Stiff, black curls piled around her shoulders, and she shook them loose. "Facilities?"

I shook my head and opened the piano board to reveal the keys. Cool, white porcelain and ebony notes had been with me all my life… I touched middle C and A minor just to fill the silence. Tess came and stood very close. Her fingers closed around my shoulders, inviting me to sit at the bench.

_I was fourteen again. Henri had just died and I had never needed Tess more. I'd never known love's loss, but I was beginning to glimpse it. I was only fourteen, but already I'd learned a hard lesson: tragedy touches the innocent and guilty alike. All that yearning and passion and misery brewed inside my heart and tortured me endlessly. I poured it all out into Henri's Sonata._

I played it for her now.

"How do you do that?" she asked. "Music is basically math and the application of numbers… Properly apply the correct movements at the right points and distance, and the result should always be the same… I've studied music in an attempt to replicate your talents. I started thinking I'd surpass you, but if anything, I admire you more. When you play, there is another factor. Something…" She shook her head in frustration. "Something _else_. It makes me feel like I'm flying through the desert, and I can hear my mother's laughter again. If I still had faith, I would call it _divine_."

My heart shattered for her. If she had lost her faith, then she was truly lost.

"If you were Cajun," I said, "you'd call it magic. Maybe I could… visit. Try to teach you. But I'm not a very good teacher."

"It's alright. I'm a very good student." She joined me on the bench and placed her hands over the middle C.

I laughed. "I'll teach you the way I learned. First, close your eyes." I stood behind her and lightly covered her closed eye lids with my fingers. "Try to _feel_ the sounds locked away. Listen, you've got to have _passion_ for what you're doing. Feel the sounds in your instrument and all the things deep down inside of you that you can't find words for… Sync it up - what you feel and what the music says. Now we'll practice. Strike the notes… how do they make you feel? _Memorize_ that feeling to that note. Eventually, you can build cords to create many feelings, like… bitter-sweet or hope…"

She removed her hands. "That's what I lack, then. Feelings."

"No. No, you don't. You've just _buried_ them."

"You and I haven't been friends for a very long time, 'On. Please don't offer insight on what you perceive to be my faults." She didn't sound angry or impatient. True to her words, she didn't _sound_ as if she felt anything.

"We've _been_ friends for a very long time," I said softly. I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and nuzzled my face into her neck. She smelled kind of strange – not at all like herself. But I was desperate to offer her some kind of comfort. Her body remained stiff, so I went on. "Henri's Sonata was written for you… He just got the credit for it because Rogue loved listening to it while she was grieving. That's alright by me. Maybe this way, some part of him gets to live on. But you inspired it. If you really were the soulless, lifeless girl you think, could you make someone else feel so much?"

She shook her head. "You must have a thousand emotions coursing through you all the time. That's not me."

"I know who you are." I sat down beside her and forced her to look at me. "You're my very best friend and the love of my life. People think you're as cold as a machine because that's what you want them to think. You've even started believing it yourself. But you're kind and loyal and courageous… You helped me steal and lie to the X-Men, even though it could've cost you everything. The only time I ever needed you and you weren't there was the time I threw it all away. You were so good to me. I just took everything you gave and kept thinking of myself. I didn't know what I had, but I do now. There is _no one_ who means more to me than you do."

She listened – _really_ listened to me. Not like she "listened" when I apologized last year on Shaw's jet. The defenses in her eyes lowered and she let me in again. She didn't have to say anything, I knew. She still cared about me, and despite what she thought about herself, she was still very much the person I fell in love with. If she weren't, why help me destroy Cerebra? Why had she gone looking for me afterwards, and why had she helped my mother reach Renegade? My Tess was incredibly intelligent and skilled. Sometimes her calculations distracted people from her more humane traits, like generosity and sensitivity. But _I _saw who she was. She was the same, and she still _felt_ the same. She didn't trust me; that was the only thing that had changed between us. _That_ I could deal with. I wasn't too proud to earn it back, but until I did, she'd keep me at a distance.

I kissed her and, instinctively, she kissed me back. But once her mind came back, she kept kissing me. I was glad to be here and talking with her, but words could only do so much. As far as I was concerned, we'd _said_ what we both wanted to _say_; now it was time to do what we came to do.

My hands slid over her back, where her bra straps outlined her shoulder blades. The skin over her back was smooth and cool and sprung goose-bumps under my fingers. But I didn't unfasten the clasp or push back her panties. I just kissed her and waited. Her body melted into mine, grasping at my hair and sucking my tongue and offering her breasts. She tasted like I remembered, but she moved a little differently. She was more confident now. No, she didn't carry me to her bed (she'd always left the final push to me), but she'd brought me home and set up the scenario and now she was kissing me. In the back of my mind, I longed to know _who'd_ made her more confident. I didn't really care – not in the jealous sense – but I was achingly curious. Apparently, I could resist _no_ temptation, and moved to the sensitive spot at the nape of her neck to distract her while I psychically rummaged through her secrets. I saw her with Shaw but no one else. (Other than me…) Shockingly, this knowledge soothed me. I enjoyed knowing it so much that I don't think I would have believed it if she'd told me without proof. If that made me happy, delving deeper made me euphoric. She'd been heavily disappointed by every aspect of their encounter. His penis was smaller than her toys and less pleasing than her own fingers. She never could find a comfortable position before he was finished, and immediately afterwards, she dressed and left. Without Looking, I knew they didn't love each other. She'd slept with him to gain his trust, that much as obvious, but why would he sleep with her? Reaching outside her for this, I discovered he did it for power, and in his own sick, twisted way, out of kindness and respect. But the incident would not be repeated.

"I know what you're doing," she said, grabbing my breasts, lifting them and letting them fall. "You're psychic and I'm telepathic, honey… Secrets between us are only pretend."

"So no more secrets," I said with a dismissive shrug.

She pulled back just enough to see me. Her mind tapped into mine and flew through the hallways, peaking in windows and behind doors until she found what she was looking for. The night I betrayed her. She saw my fear, shame, and uncertainty ripped to the surface during the act. She knew how selfish and gentle he and I were; how we both needed each other in that moment. She knew his body as well as I did now, and how it was still drawn to me. She knew we didn't use protection because a part of me hoped for a child to replace Henri. And because she kept looking without flinching away, she also learned that Ethan and I were genetically related. Any child we had would have been an abomination. I'd never shared that particular secret with anyone, not even myself. If I'd ever faced that fact directly, I would've been submerged in guilt and shame. And at the time, I was innocent… of knowing _that_, anyway.

Maybe I should've shielded her from some things, but I didn't dare. I'd wanted so badly to share that experience with someone – _anyone_ – that I was even willing to share it with her.

She wasn't angry. Actually, I think she was a little soothed, too. When she looked at me again, her lips were swollen and there was a storm brewing behind her eyes. "Let's go to the bedroom," she said, leading the way.

My heart was racing but my mind was in a fog. I didn't notice anything about her room other than it was dark and had a bed.

She closed the door and approached me from behind. She asked, "Do you mind?" and unzipped my dress. "I don't want you getting _glitter_ all over everything."

I let the outfit slide off and it melted into a red, shimmering puddle at my feet. Because of its design, I couldn't wear anything beneath the dress, and now I stood completely naked except for my high-heels. Honestly, I hadn't _dared_ to hope for this night to end so well.

I turned around and took her in my arms, instantly arriving at my favorite place in the world. Our bodies still fit together perfectly, like the two pieces of the ying-yang symbol. Her kiss was as familiar to me as my own skin. As we kissed, she reached up and grabbed my breasts again. This time, her thumbs brushed over my nipples and I thought I'd die. I wrapped my arms around her and fumbled with her bra hook, but my fingers were shaking too violently to manage the unfastening. She helped me undress her with a knowing smile.

"Are you this nervous with all your lovers?"

"Shut up," I grumbled and pulled her close.

"I want to show you something," she said softly. She took my hand and led me to her bed, where she turned down the sheets and invited me to sit.

I was glad to accept her invitation, my knees were violently shaking. She slowly sat beside me and chastely took my hands. Then she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, as if to steady her nerves. But she didn't proceed with words or caresses. I felt her mind gently touch mine, waiting for acceptance. Her projection wasn't visible in forms like Nate's or other, more powerful telepaths. It was like looking through a window at a reflection of a ghost: fuzzy and incomplete. We were on the astral plane, where thoughts and emotions are hard to conceal. This was different from our previous connections, which was more like mind hacking. I opened up to her and she opened to me.

Crippling, agonizing pain rushed over me like an ocean. Salty waves beat me down, crushed me, and overwhelmed me to the point of death. Could one die on the astral plane? I'd never asked.

This was her mind. I heard voices like lapping waves and dipping currents.

'_Tanaz! What were you doing outside? What if they'd seen you?' _

'_Disgusting girl! No __**man**__ will ever love you!' _

'_Their lives will be defined by __**honor**__, yours by your capacity to __**betray**__.' _

'_I only slept with him once…' _

'_If you want to see her, you know what I require.' _

'_Being in charge of myself is the most important thing I have!'_

I was drowning in the darkness and the cold when a hand reached out for me. The demonic voices of despair faded beneath music and the sound of children's laughter. That laugh – it belonged to the twins. These were _my_ memories!

_We were making out in my bed when Ollie burst through the door looking for his mother, who was away on work. I picked him up and comforted him the best I could. At the time, we forced ourselves to laugh at it. But while I held his little body and my eyes met Tess's, something struck us. Was it longing for a similar situation, many years down the road? Or remembrance of one long ago? _

_And then I was besieged by memories without owners._

_I saw a woman walk across a sand dune. She wore long, white robes that billowed high into the night. She passed a group of pilgrims and caught a man's eye. The look lasted only a moment, but lived in their hearts for a lifetime. Then I watched two men greet with a passionate kiss. They parted as a woman passed, and then kissed until they fell into the bushes. Next: the small, ornate sedan of a young Chinese girl. It was her wedding day, and curiosity about the groom drove her mad. Against all traditions of propriety, she parted the curtain of ruby beads over her face and peaked through the silk curtains. He turned to her with a smile that made her stomach flutter. By now, I knew these were our past incarnations. I heard my father's voice say in Chinese: 'Can you imagine a love superior to the bonds of time and death? A love which never dies…' As he spoke, I saw two swans calmly swim downstream. Had our infinite love really began in the hearts of two birds? Regal and loyal as they were, they were still __**birds**__. It was too incredible for words, really._

"I had no idea…" Tess said. "No idea you loved me so much."

We were back in her modern room in New York City. She was in her back panties, and I wore nothing. I was trembling all over, much like I had the first time we were intimate. Despite my nerves, I reached out and stroked her face.

"I had no idea I'd _hurt_ you so much," I said.

With one knee on either side of my thighs, she sat on my legs and we watched each other. She was undoubtedly the most beautiful creature God ever made. Her legs were long and a little too thin, but her ass was perfectly round and firm. Her muscles were nicely defined, front and back, and beneath protruding, bird-like collar bones rested the most irresistible pair of breasts. All of her skin was snowy white with no hint of sun coloring, but some areas had scar tracks. Sinister's work wasn't limited to her face, but was also written on her biceps and shins and the small of her back.

The combination of beauty and pain overwhelmed me, so I held her close to hide the tears that spilled from my eyes.

She cradled my face. "No more tears."

But I couldn't stop crying or shaking, even when she pulled the sheets over us and held me like a child. I'd been completely unprepared to confront all the emotional baggage I'd been carrying around for the last year or so. Apparently, Tess wasn't. I think pain is her comfort. She was right to confront me with it – it was the only way we could move forward – but it was too powerful for to defeat alone. Maybe she was right, and I simply felt _more_ than her. Maybe what crippled me didn't bother her.

Eventually, she realized my plight and slipped me a dirty thought.

I saw Tess's first orgasm. After we'd been making out for the better part of three months, she had to know where all this pleasure ended. She slipped into the shower (it was the only place she had any privacy), and held the shower head between her legs. When she came, it gripped her so hard that her toes curled and she cried out my name.

A bolt of arousal shot to the center between my legs. If the _thought_ of her being naked turned me on, why didn't the actual thing? Because my head was too wrapped up in other things. This was just like our first time together. I had to stop thinking about all the things that had hurt me and focus on where I was – which was actually lovely. I kicked the covers off us and pressed her against the bed, automatically finding a warm welcome between her legs. We smiled at each other like old friends. Her cool hands and my warm lips caressed each other until we were both shaking, and when we finally came together, tears streamed down her face. We were gentle and kind with each other (for once), and let the pleasure build at its own pace as we made love. There was no frenzy or anxiety. It was something beyond physical gratification, something more expressive of our hearts. I traced her scars until they were memorized; I showed her my new talents. So much of her was familiar: the smell of her sex, the raspy groan from her chest, the way she moved to what she liked or didn't... But she'd learned some new tricks, too. I tried not to think about where she'd learned them.

I came unexpectedly on her fingers, and then brought her to a climax with my mouth. She rolled on top and we came together. She'd been delaying her own satisfaction until I caught up, and when she finally released it, I think we both lost our minds. The feeling of her juices flowing into my warmth, trying to quench the fire within drove me mad. I wanted nothing but her. _Always_. In the afterglow, I found I still wanted to be near her. So like my favorite toy, I picked her up again and again. That's what I love about being a lesbian: no man on earth can go like that! When we were too high to go anymore, we sort of passed out in each other's arms. I didn't sleep, I know that, but I was barely conscious. All the ecstasy permeated in my flesh, but it had nothing to do with orgasms. We weren't merely reunited physically; we were spiritually and mentally joined, too. It was like coming home after a long journey. Yes, I was home.

…

"Sorry I can't stay longer," I said.

"Don't worry about it," Tess shrugged, still naked under the covers.

I dressed in some of her clothes, which were all too small except for the jacket. Every time I tried to leave, I came back to her for another kiss or twelve. But I really couldn't stay. The longer I was gone, the longer I'd be grounded. But I was going to be grounded no matter what, so how could a few more minutes more hurt?

'_Get it together, LeBeau! No one likes a guest who doesn't know when to leave!' _I told myself and reached for the door knob with new resolve.

"Wait!" she cried, "What about your mother's shoes?"

I smiled. "I'll get'm next time."

.::.

_Fin_.

**Author's Notes:** So, so sorry this took so long to post. To be quiet honest, this story has been the better part of a year of my life, and I think I was dragging my feet because I really just didn't want to see it come to an end. '_Ballad'_ is followed by '_Making a Big Stink'_ and '_Savage Land'_, which have both been posted already, and '_Stink'_ is nearly finished. Once it is, it might be a while before I post anything else. I do have some ideas, but I don't think I'll post before it's completed. Writing is something I like to do a little more leisurely, and these last two stories I've been pushing myself to meet deadlines. Anyways, I hope you've enjoyed the long and winding road of Honor and Tess, and thanks for taking the time to read. Please review!


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